


Sparks

by MuzaiYuuzai



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Allspark, Allspark Sam Witwicky, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fights, Gen, Giant Robots, Lots of drama, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Spark Bond, a bit jumpy, but worth it in the end, edited and updated, expect lots of characters, that is a thing that happens, your mileage may vary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2018-03-23 04:12:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 70,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3754087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuzaiYuuzai/pseuds/MuzaiYuuzai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As with life, not everything is going to go the way you want it to. Not everything is going to fall into a neat little line. Not everyone you set out to kill is just going to lay down and die. For the Autobots and their companions this lesson is just beginning. An AU with mature themes, oft ignored characters and a bevy of drama and cliffhangers.</p><p>Reposted from Fanfiction.net to gear up for the sequel. 'Flames'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Burnt Out

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. Hasbro does. All characters are 18 or older with the exception of Annabelle.
> 
> AN: This is something I've been working on for a bit, and I realized it bears some elements of snowflakespeech's plot bunny. So I've finally decided to post here. Please take a look and tell me what you think. So here it goes. This is the re-edited version of Sparks. Thanks to gracesolo for all of the wonderful beta work, hand holding and laughter.

0101010101010101010101010101

Sparks 1: Burnt Out

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Blood pounded in his ears and Samuel James Witwicky gritted his teeth, lifting the cube of metal towards the robotic creature looming over him. The blue energy crackled along his palms, sharp bolts of pain stinging his fingertips. Despite it, he held on. Stretching tall, he shoved the alien cube toward the glowing cavity within Megatron's chest. Determined brown eyes focused hard on the brilliant glow emanating from the Decepticon towering over him.

As the damned cube burned fingers the spark's very pulse matched the beat of his heart. Sucking in air, he held tight to the thing, only faintly aware of silvered claws reaching down towards him. As the sharpened digits descended they eclipsed everything; hitting him hard knocking him to the road. In those precious seconds he didn't even have a chance to scream.

The leader of the Decepticons rose away, inspecting his dripping claws coated in human blood. A foolish effort from one so small, it was quite a pity. The boy had bearings alright, he really would have made the most amusing pet. A cruel chuckle echoed across the ravaged street, soon to become a testament to the victory of the Decepticons. The red splattered appendage moved again, reaching for the All Spark cradled to the boy's chest. This haste however, proved to be Megatron's undoing, for the instant he touched the broken body Optimus Prime intervened.

The wicked blade protruding from his arm caught Megatron as he turned, carving away the silver metal from his chest. Driven deep into the wide frame, the blade stopped just before the Decepticon's vulnerable spark. A movement from either Mech would end his life, already his systems were beginning to fail and bright warnings flashed across his optics. Rerouting the subroutines in his neural net he strained to hear just what Prime was saying as Energon leaked from the painful wound.

"Freedom is not the only right of sentient beings. Take your forces and go. Your actions here may have doomed us all, brother."

The word was spat with such vehemence and Prime hauled his sword from the sparking chest, splattering blue over his frame and the street far below. The Mech shuddered with unsheathing and staggered back, momentarily defeated. He would live, but would not be fighting anytime soon. The formerly trapped mech shifted into his alternate mode and tore into the sky, leaving the shattered wreckage in his wake.

Turning from his old friend, the Autobot knelt to examine the tiny body lying in the street. Broken and battered Sam barely moved as the massive shadow fell over him. Exceedingly careful Prime reached for the boy, lifting him and the All Spark from the blooded stone. He cradled Sam in his hands, cursory scans identifying the worst of his injuries.

He had broken bones, multiple lacerations and second-degree burns all over his body. The worst wound by far was the slicked All Spark just beneath his folded arms imbedded in his chest. Curling his fingers over the fading youth Prime called to Ratchet. It was painfully obvious the possible outcomes to the precarious situation. He muttered a prayer to Primus calculating any other solutions; even so, precious few could result in the boy's survival.

010101010101010101010101

Mikaela cut the engine on the tow truck once the sound of gunfire and explosions stopped. No Decepticons came barreling through the glass so she deemed it safe enough. Sparing a glance back at her passenger Mikeala slipped from the truck's cab and looked around. Bumblebee shifted as best he could, pushing at his battle mask as he was still suspended by the crane.

"Pit slagging-" Ironhide began, raising his cannons, "They're running!"

The gruff voice caught her by surprise and Mikeala leapt for the quasi-safety of Sam's car. His observation, she realized huddling against the transformed Camaro, held more anger than confusion. Taking aim at the tank known as Brawl, he charged the extended cannons. Unfortunately for the home team, he was briefly surprised by the massive figure of Blackout nearly dropping down on top of him. A sudden kick to the Topkick's chest and Ironhide rocked backward scrabbling at the much abused building for support. Dust and debris rained down on the street as the Deceptions made a less than dignified or honorable retreat.

With the opportunity wasted, the weapon's specialist swore viscously in his native tongue. Retracting his beloved weapons he turned to his filthy companions. Bumblebee moved slowly, bits of glass and concrete dropping from his chassis. Lying there squashed against his chest, protected from the debris lay the tiny human who had been responsible for their timely support. Her parking needed work, but from what he'd seen she a competent driver.

"Are you damaged?"

"I'm fine." she admitted after a cursory check. Flicking hair from her face, Mikaela slid down Bumblebee's armature. The resulting shudder earned another look from the weapons specialist. The girl didn't seem to notice, but then they had bigger problems to worry about. Another scan confirmed the complete lack of Deceptions, even worse glaring lack of their First Lieutenant. Pavement cracked somewhere close by and Ironhide turned, sidelining those particular feelings for a more opportune moment. He took a defensive position only to relax as the Autobot Medic appeared from the dust.

Ratchet moved to meet them with a long-suffering sigh. He knelt briefly to Bumblebee's side. The once-again injured scout lowered his optics as the CMO silently reattached his limbs. Confused, he signaled the medic inquiring of the status of the rest of their team.

Brushing aside the inquisitive signal the "emergency vehicle" focused on repairing the battle inflicted damage as fast and efficiently as he could. As the telltale splatter of Energon covered his hands however, he realized he'd clenched them to keep them from shaking. His instability went unnoticed by his kind and humans alike ,as Will Lennox tore across the mangled street. His team moved with him, their weapons raised high, scanning the darkened streets and sky. The reason was soon terribly clear as Optimus Prime; battle scarred, but online, followed them silently. Head bowed towards his outstretched hands, he moved with deliberate care.

Ratchet was on his feet faster than even he believed possible, moving to meet his commander. In his hands lay the last holder of the All Spark, motionless and damaged.

Samuel Witwicky.

One look from those optics and he scanned the still figure, waiting for Optimus to speak.

"Can you save him?"

His voice crackled from his Audio processors, tinged with fear and worry. It wasn't an order, but a request and another scan confirmed his reasoning. The boy was close to death, any mistake or hesitation on their part would kill him for sure. As a leader Optimus Prime knew how and when to make sacrifices, but by the pit, he'd do anything to make sure Samuel wasn't one of them.

Out there, in the open removing the All Spark would be the proverbial final nail for the boy. To be honest the medical officer wasn't even sure he could do it. With the gaping chest wound, the boy was loosing oxygen fast and once deprived he wouldn't recover. Blood from his limp arms splattered on the pavement far below. Time was running out for him.

Shaking his head Ratchet finally answered. "No, but I can get him to someone who can."

Mikaela watched as Ratchet shifted back into his alternate mode, the spiraling lights dispelling the shadows over the street. Optimus Prime went down on bended knee allowing the remaining rangers to load the dying boy into the back of the idling Hummer. Shaking she clung to the robotic alien by her side; Ironhide didn't seem to mind, touching her gently with his fingers in an affectionate gesture. Struggling to rise, Bumblebee could only watch as his brothers attempted to save the only thing he'd been assigned to protect. Remorse washed over him, chilling him to the very spark.

As his sirens wailed, Ratchet accelerated over the burnt and blacked pavement carrying away the human. Bumblebee the produced the most mournful, dejected sound a creature in his position could ever make. While the remaining humans scrambled from the shattering glass and covered their injured ears, only the Autobots present could understand the cry for what it was a single name.

"Sam."

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It had to have been the weirdest emergency situation any of the doctors at any Mission City General Hospital had ever faced. Every time they attempted to stabilize the man on the operating table, their equipment went haywire. They couldn't be sure of the circumstances surrounding his injuries, but they were certainly wondering if the terrorist attack had had something to do with it. It wasn't every day a boy came in with a cube of metal imbedded in his chest.

On all accounts the young man, Sam shouldn't have even been alive. It was unbelievable he'd even made it to the Hospital, much less to the ER. With perforated lungs, shredded veins and massive trauma it was unlikely he'd survive no matter what they did. That fact didn't stop them from doing everything in their power. There was no way they were going to give up on him. He was a fighter, so they supported him as best they could.

Three times they'd spoken with the man who'd brought him in, a Mr. William Lennox. Obviously injured himself, the man refused treatment, worrying over his charge instead. Every time he'd taken their news, the extent of his damage, and how they were trying to keep his heart stable. All he asked was if Sam would live. The last time he'd been taking to a sullen young woman on the verge of tears. She'd fled at the sight of their bloodied white coats, and as far as they knew hadn't returned. It had had been confirmed at that point, Sam's parents were on their way. Determined now more than ever the medical team continued, strived with all they had, just to keep the boy alive. No one wanted to tell a parent they'd out lived their son.

Not that any one of them knew how to begin. His arms required stitches, his lungs needed patching and they absolutely had to do something about the chunk of metal entombed in his chest cavity. X-rays were out of the question and the possibility of infection doubled by the second. To survive that, Sam was going to need a miracle.

010101010101010101

Under the haze of light he felt awful, everything hurt. It was like Megatron had pounded him flat into the ground. As a hazy memories drifted back to him, he realized that yeah, he kinda had. Too dazed to criticize himself, actually he was too tired to do a lot of things. Everything seemed to sway before his eyes as if the life was drifting out of him. Struggling to focus on something anything but the pain, the lights above him blazed in their intensity until they were all he could see. It hurt; everything hurt and burned through him, leaving nothing but sparks behind.

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Outside in the eerily pleasant dusk, Mikaela sagged against a nearby truck. Clenching her fists, she finally broke down and cried. Pounding her fists uselessly against the black frame, she screamed once before sagging to her knees. Ironhide to his credit, didn't move, didn't speak. She obviously needed nothing more than to vent her frustration. He would have preferred, however for her take her vengeance out on something else. Much as he would have done to the Decepticons, had they not fled in fear.

Closer to the street, Optimus Prime was very much lost to his thoughts. A pang of guilt flickered through him lodging in his core before blooming into regret. This indeed had been his responsibility, He'd known what he'd had to do, but now it was too late and another was dying in his place. Worse yet, the War wasn't over.

Was one life, worth it?

Had Sam's life been worth it?

His self directed thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the squeal of tires and frantic screams. Mikaela stood suddenly as Ironhide blew his horn. Turning she found the yellow Camaro moving up the street. It was a temporary balm on her wounded heart. Speeding over the grass, he pulled up short before her, doors snapping open. Spilled out into the pavement were the disheveled figures of Ronald and Judy Witwicky, Sam's parents.

Helping them to their feet, she all but dragged them towards the building, fresh tears in her eyes. There wasn't really time for explanations, but they had to know how. They had to know why. He could already be. There had been so much blood. Sparing a glance to the solemn Autobots, she managed a reassuring smile. Holding tightly to their hands Mikeala crossed the threshold of the hospital and began her story.

The slamming of his doors echoed hollowly in the lot. Bumblebee didn't care. He didn't feel like moving from where he'd parked. Taking up almost two spaces, he sat across the median from his comrades in self-imposed exile. He almost expected Optimus to say something, anything. He would have welcomed a reprimand, but none came. Their leader, disguised in the impressive form of a Peterbilt Truck said nothing. The infernal silence stretched on, leaving the young Autobot to his own devices. Berating himself for his inability protect his own, Bumblebee wished desperately for the boy to live.

If only….

The scout turned his attention to the building and settled on his wheels to wait.

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He drifted with the pain and the loss of everything, the lights so bright, glowing almost golden as he shuttered his eyes.

"Am I dying?"

There was no reply, but he had not expected one. Not that he expected much; the endless pain seemed to fade a bit more, as the brilliant glow pulsed before him.

"I must be dying." At that acceptance, time seemed to slow and everything else began to fade. His rapidly diminishing consciousness however chose to object.

"Wait I can't go yet. This can't be over. What about my family, what about my friends: what about my life? I can't die. I've still got things to do."

The war wasn't over and he was still a part of it, glasses or no.

"I can't die."

His heart beat faltered, seeking to prove him wrong. He panicked then, the pain almost gone as the energy built up within himself.

"I really don't want to die."

The light seemed to explode before him as a faint touch brushed his scrabbling mind.

Clinging to it like a lifeline, he forced open his eyes.

The pain was back with a vengeance, it flared to the forefront of his mind and senses. It was a pain unlike anything he'd ever experienced. The heavy weight on his chest shifted forcing a half strangled gasp from his throat. Between his chapped lips, the tube supposedly aiding his breathing became more of a hindrance as he choked on the blood in his throat.. Blearily he struggled to focus on something, anything but the pain.

Crackling energy crossed the twitching body, halting everyone present in their tracks. The attached machines wailed in agony, and the boy jerked on the table. Writhing uncontrollably, he tore loose the electrodes and equipment attached to him. The rhythmic chirping of the heart monitor as per its programming settled into an ear-piercing whine.

As someone reached for the boy, an arc of blue lighting struck, knocking him out cold on the floor. Someone screamed, and all hell finally broke loose.

The unpredictable sparks, forced the medical staff present to back away from the table.

With each passing flicker they could only watch in horror as the glowing cube sunk deeper into the wound and cracked it open. Segments of the cube popped, slid and groaned; unfolding against one another as it rearranging its outer shapes. The pieces moved under invisible hands realigning themselves, compressing and rippled, stretching to fit in the exposed cavity of the boy's chest.

They each stood in sheer awe as the former points smoothed curling over pink flesh.

The flickering light and the once solid metal flowed like water over him, in him, it cascading over his body bathing the room in a brilliant blue glow. Then just as suddenly as it had begun it stopped. Sam flopped limply against the table, steam rising from his skin. Stunned into silence they cautiously approached.

When nothing else occurred, they hurriedly turned their attention to the apparently unexplainable situation before them. Sam however seemed no worse for wear. Aside from the appearance of blackened lines and symbols along his torso the skin was undamaged. Moving closer they examined the silvered flesh. Cool to the touch, it was just like the rest of him. Checking for breathing, the found nothing, not one heartbeat, what had seemed like a strange miracle from above was rapidly turning into a nightmare. So strange and still, he seemed fine, but they knew better. The entire room was silent, as a single man reached for the boy's hand.

His lips thinned, he looked towards the clock and in that instant time seemed to slow.

He checked once, looked to his superior who tried again before settling that pale glyphed wrist over the silver chest.

"Time of death."


	2. Melt Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. Hasbro does. All characters are 18 or older with the exception of Annabelle.
> 
> Hi, it's me again! I got such great feedback on the first chapter that I went ahead and finished the second.  
> So here it is, Enjoy
> 
> This has been beta'd but nobody's perfect. Comments and Critiques are welcomed and encouraged. Thanks! Much of the credit for this one goes to my big sister muzaiden. Also thanks to falleneos for the medal info.
> 
> So here it goes. This is the re-edited version of Sparks. Thanks to gracesolo for all of the wonderful beta work, hand holding and laughter.

020202020202020202

Sparks 2: Melt Down

020202020202020202

Staring at his cell phone, Miles Lancaster briefly wondered if his so-called best friend was avoiding him. He hadn't visited; he hadn't even called back since the whole car issue. After the incident at the lake he had every right to be irritated at the Sam, but that was then and then and this was, well. Deciding to bite the metaphorical bullet, he grabbed a few necessities including the peace offering and headed out the door, he left his car in the driveway, preferring instead to make the trip on foot, to figure what he was going to say. The block was quiet, but then it always had been, he smiled and walked along the hedge framing the entrance of the Witwicky's yard.

To his surprise, the lawn was a wreck not to mention Mrs. Witwicky's flowerbeds; he shook off the torpor and marched up the walkway avoiding the remains of scattered petunias he moved to the door. Upon climbing on to the porch, it was he then realized the front door was open.

He froze in the passageway waiting, listening. When nothing happened he moved on. Pushing the door, the teen slunk along the floorboards, peeking into the silent house. It was freaky, he decided, in like a horror movie kinda way. Poking into the kitchen, he made a solemn promise not to wander in to the woods or hit anybody with a car. Fishing in his pocket he retrieved his cell, punching the number he finally attempted to call his MIA comrade. With a bit of digging and luck, he'd be able to get to the bottom of the situation. Or find out if his buddy was really on the run following that encounter with police a few days before. Claiming an apple from the fruit bowl on the table, Miles made for the stairs. So intent was he on his search he didn't even realize he was being followed.

020202020202020202020

Ronald Witwicky was a rather sensible man; it was that fact that kept him from, punching the sharply dressed man before him. The suit, had bluntly informed him his youngest son had been involved in a situation of interstellar importance. In short because of his lineage, mainly his great, great grandfather, he had been a target of aliens on a mission of galactic conquest. While that had been the sort of tripe of a lame B-horror movie, all he'd really gotten out of it was that his son was dead and they refused to let him and his wife see Sam's body.

Judy was beside herself, tears shining in her eyes as she sat nestled between Mikaela and another man, William. He'd stood and shaken Ron's hand when they'd arrived and attempted to explain, much as young Miss Banes had. He was no nonsense, left out the needless details and stuck with the facts. If they had met under drastically different circumstances, Ron was sure he would have liked the solider. Even so, his story was remarkable similar to the one gorilla in the jacket had spun. Fortunately, he had the empathy to say Sam; instead of your son. His tone had been one of respect, rather than formality. The way he saw it, Samuel had been a hero. It was the saving grace of the entire thing, he'd gone down fighting. No sacrifice, no victory. No matter how much pride Ron felt, it was but a balm. Nothing was going to bring back his boy.

0202020202020202020

Cradling the warm cup in her hands Mikaela sipped at her tea, and looked to Captain Lennox.

It had been almost an hour since she'd seen Sam, and now he was-. She couldn't bring herself to think it, much less say it. Swallowing the warm liquid she touched Judy's hand.

One of the Doctor's had approached barely ten minutes before. He'd squared his chin and addressed the Witwicky's but Judy had dressed him in sharp words, her hand had been shaking in her lap.

She claimed the pair of them, Lennox and Banes, family and there had been no room for argument. Chastised he'd lead them led them all to another room and explained. It was there in his eyes, and words. The extent of the damage and what they'd done, trying to save Sam. It was like some horrible dream, hearing the words and realizing that is had happening to someone you loved. He finished with a chocked sound, the injuries had just been too much for Sam and that they'd done everything. In the end it just hadn't been enough. They sat there wordlessly now, offering solemn comfort.

Footsteps echoed close by and another suited figure stopped before them, Will rose to his feet followed by Mr. Witwicky, as he asked them to follow. They nearly refused then and there, but the badge he produced was an indication of two things. One, someone wanted their attention and two; they didn't have a choice in the matter. Mikaela took their cue and helped Judy to her feet, eyes hardening as they turned toward the man and the S7 badge.

020202020202020202

Unsettled to his very spark the Autobot Ratchet rocked on his wheels. It was just as he had feared. Sam had passed on to the matrix, and there was no mention of the All Spark. It was not that he did not care about the boy. He had cared too much it seemed, it was that kind of attitude that prevented him from attempting the surgery there in the street. He could have saved them possibly, could have attempted to circumvent the effects of the All Spark. Indeed, had the All Spark itself exacerbated Sam's injuries? More to the point had the All Spark's attempt to survive extinguished a life?

They were taking it hard, the all were but worse of all was the boy's guardian. Bumblebee was physically functional, but barely responsive. The newfound depression was exhibiting was startlingly comparable to the loss of a Spark-bonded. As far as Ratchet could tell, his sensors were been focused on the equipment that had been attached to his charge. The medic had scanned them over and over, just as the rest of the team, searching for any anomalies. At the moment they'd cut out however, Bumblebee had fallen silent.

In his own little world, that very scout was still searching for danger, sabotage and treachery.

Sam could not have been dead, he refused to believe it. His vocal processors were incapable of expressing anything akin to the pain he felt. Nothing could describe the emptiness. He wanted nothing more than to cry, but even that cathartic release was denied to him. Optimus had touched him in the mere instant the machines failed to keep Sam alive. His firm tone and kind words were a bitter pill, but necessary; an acknowledgment the passing of both charge and comrade.

"He was a fine soldier and an even better friend."

It was not supposed to happen, he was supposed to live. It was illogical, unexplainable. The scout wanted nothing more than to drive. Put his tires to the road and go far, far away. Somewhere anywhere. Away from the place of death, but there he sat, listening to the hum of unused machines. It was there he would remain dutifully, until dismissed. If he was to pay tribute, honor guard he would be. It was the only mission he had anymore.

020202020202020202

Ironhide was certainly not having the best day. First, the Decepticons had escaped his cannons, second he'd lost two friends and third he was laying low in a fraggin hospital parking lot. There was no help for it. Optimus was taking the necessary time to grieve and reflect on what they'd lost. Ironhide could not blame nor begrudge him. The lieutenant Jazz, he'd been prepared to fall in battle and had died with honor. Witwicky, Sam had been no more that kid, barely old enough to shoulder that sort of burden. He hadn't been quite a civilian anymore, but no one ever expected him to die. They each felt a responsible, but Megatron was more to blame than any of them. When they caught up to him, he would defiantly carve a bit of retribution out of his scraggly hide for Jazz and for Sam.

His thoughts turned to his Prime and what he was feeling, much less thinking. The burden of leader was a heavy one to bear. It was also a mantle he would bear until a new Prime was raised to the challenge; it was a position that no one envied.

The very mech in question, Optimus Prime was unaware of his officer's opinions, but tragically aware of the pair of GMC Yukon's parked in front hospital. They'd pulled up nearly four minutes before and had yet to move. Wary, even in mourning; he called the situation to the attention of his team.

As expected, they agreed with his assumptions the possibly sinister nature of the vehicles. Determining what sort of threat however was another matter entirely. Over the major lines of communication the Government had already begun decrying 'Mission City Incident' as a terrorist attack. The damage was excessive, though the loss of life had not been. It was a tragic understatement at the very least. Witnesses were already being taken into custody, but to what end Prime could only guess. Too many lives were being affected, too drastically and for what? The situation was deteriorating faster than he could have imagined. This was not the time for rash actions.

Four individuals exited the automatic doors of the hospital, escorted by men in suits.

Ironhide rumbled from his spot beside Optimus as Mikaela turned in their direction, with raised hand she signaled, five fingers on her left hand with two on her right. She nodded towards the cars before she too was directed into the back of the second Yukon behind Ronald Witwicky.

As the vehicles pulled away from the curb another engine roared to life. Not waiting for the opinions of his leader or commanding officers, Bumblebee followed close behind the departing convoy.

There was no way he was letting them out of his sight. Not this time. It seemed he would sooner submit to stasis lock, then let another human be harmed on his watch.

02020202020202020202

Miles shifted in the uncomfortable chair, he'd been sitting there almost an hour or so he'd assumed. His phone had been taken so he wasn't too sure and still no one was explaining anything. Well, nothing intelligible at the least. The pretty blond, Maggie had tried, but he'd refused to believe in alien cars, even if he was supposedly in the so called secret base where'd they been held some time ago. A secret base inside Hoover Dam, it certainly was not what he'd expected one to look like. To be honest it seemed more like a dump.

Pressing his nose to the pane of glass separating himself from the cacophony below, Miles scrutinized the wrecked equipment the technician s that worked furiously. Larger than anything he'd even seen, the crock about aliens was beginning to look more and more likely. Armed men moved in formation across the floor and others rushed by in flapping lab coats. As Miles watched they moved a sheet wrapped gurney, the kind for bodies, across the floor earning a sad shrug and a "Poor bastard" from his lips.

His attention to the tragic tableau was snapped away as the door opened again admitting two men. Glenn, Maggie's oversized assistant managed an awkward salute and one smiled.

"Mr. Secretary-" Miss Madsen began, but found herself cut off as the teen made his presence known.

"What the hell is going on here?"

The elder of the pair addressed the other rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Simmons. What have I said about kidnapping?"

Straightening his tie the man mumbled something before turning to the raving blond boy.

"We found him in the Witwicky residence; he's also covered in it."

The inference of that fact alone, that he was covered in the radiation, it meant he'd come in contact with them. That meant he was a part of the cycle of events, for good or worse.

The teen sputtered a moment before yelling again, rounding on the man in the stupid black hat.

"Of course I was at the Witwicky's! They practically raised me. Sam's my best friend!"

The declaration hung in the air, and the room was eerily silent.

The man, who would later be identified as the Secretary of Defense John Keller, moved to his side and clapped a firm hand to his shoulder.

"My dear boy, I am sorry."

His stomach dropped as the door opened again admitting the family in question. Ronald and Judy were followed closely by Mikaela and another man in dirty fatigues. Miles stared at them in surprise, his voice faltering as he managed to speak, his voice soft with the confusion written all over his face.

"What the hell is going on?"

Mikeala broke the silence, the so called evil jock concubine covered in scratches and dirt shook as she spoke. Succinct and almost wistful she weaved a tale of cars, artifacts and even more giant aliens. She kept to facts, spoke like she actually been there, had actually held Sam's hand when the dust settled. The young woman tried to keep the emotion out of her voice, she stuttered over the last time she'd seen him how she'd been "really glad she'd gotten in to that car."

By the end however she wasn't the only one near tears.

Squashing his initial urge to protest in disbelief, Miles Lancaster finally shut up and listened to what he was being told.

"He's gone?"

He sounded like a lost child, searching the faces of the room. He made a choked sound and Mrs. Witwicky pulled the man to her holding him tightly as she stroked his hair.

As the truth began to sink in, Miles shook clinging to the woman who was practically his second mother crying as he wrapped his head around the fact he'd just lost his brother and friend.

"Sam is gone."

Five steps but practically worlds away, next to the window overlooking the formerly secure facility, the Secretary of Defense spoke candidly with William Lennox and Ronald Witwicky.

Their hush tones broached the tender subject of funeral arrangements and post humus awards of service, the Medal of Honor in particular.

Staring listlessly out at cold stone Mikaela was briefly startled by the welcoming arms of Reginald Simmons. The man stumbled over condolences and awkward apologies, before he finally settled for the truth.

"He was a good man. Brave, steadfast and dedicated, I glad to have met him, despite the circumstances."

Nodding she accepted the hug for what it was, too was overwhelmed by emotion to reply.

The respectful silence was suddenly cut short as Glenn spoke aloud eyes wide in panic.

"Guys? What happened to the alien robots?"

At the moment the rumble of a speeding vehicle reverberated through the complex. Several technicians panicked at the sound moving for safety further into the tunnels. Their grief momentarily forgotten, those secluded in the observation deck rushed down the stairs to the main floor as the yellow striped visage of Bumblebee roared into view. Without warning Sam's Camaro practically surged upward shifting and rearranging itself into a humanoid shape.

Stumbling back Miles dropped to the floor, mouth agape as the robotic creature loomed. Its bright blue optics were however, focused on the girl beside him. Mikaela lifted her arms to the mechanoid as it made a shrill suffering sound.

"It's okay Bee" she insisted despite the tears in her eyes.

The whine tapered off, but that was all, the alien eyes flickered dimly in the light. It knelt before them, its large hands settled on its knees as it surveyed the place of its captivity. Shaking its massive head it turned back to the human before it, a soft whimper working its way from the ruined throat. His scans took in their sullen expressions and leaking optics and he too was struck by grief. Death was a certainty for their species he known. He'd thought he'd be strong enough to handle it when the time came. In an instant however everything had changed. He'd lost the best friend he'd ever known and his very spark ached with that loss.

Another sound escaped his healing vocal processors and he reached forward, the tips of his massive fingers, brushing the floor as he gently smoothed the young woman's ruffled hair. Mikaela immediately grasped his index finger, holding the digit close as turned to look at those behind her. She knew what she had to do.

"This is Bumblebee."

Almost as if bidden, Judy Witwicky moved across the floor stopping just before the robotic creature. Wiping away another tear, she reached forward despite the protests of her husband and adopted son, she pressed a hand to the knee of the Camaro. Their eyes met and she knew she just knew, why he made those awful keening wails. He had been Sam's guardian, the one who had nearly killed himself trying to protect her son. Patting the scorched metal she nodded at him.

"Bumblebee, thank you. You did all you could for my boy."

Unfortunately not everyone could see it that way. Miles angry shout was silenced the room and drew the creature's attention.

"You! This is your fault! All of it!"

Rushing the mech he pushed past Judy and he half-climbed, half-stumbled up its body. Scrabbling for purchase the teen caught the bundling cables and wires in the mech's throat. Griping his handhold tightly he kicked the thing in the chest once. Wincing, he began shouting again, the pain and fury etched into his features.

Bumblebee wailed as small hands tugged viciously on his vocal cords. It had not been the youth's intention, but he was angry and hurt. He had been Sam's friend, obnoxious and strange but a good person nonetheless. Any friend of Sam's was-. The boy would not come to harm, not while he still functioned. Another squeeze dislodged a connector and his scream was silenced.

"If it wasn't for that thing! If it wasn't for it, Sam would!"

A small pitiful sob touched his spark and the assaulted mechanoid lifted his hands attempting to hold the figure raging against his chassis

Hands hauled the boy away, disentangling his fingers from the twisted wiring and dripping cables.

He whimpered again, the attempt as painful as the fact that he made no sound. Blue liquid splattered on the yellow paint and the floor and Bumblebee hunched over, trembling on the ground. Even as Miles screamed again, fighting William Lennox trying to get at the monster, three other vehicles entered the base. Weaving around the broken machines and debris the Autobots stopped behind the rasping Camaro.

Even before Maggie could scream they too changed rising above the humans, their shadows blocking the light from above. They moved to their comrade's side, facing the tiny humans screaming. The blond youth tore free, stumbling before the yellow Camaro again. Finally his voice worked its way from his throat, allowing him to say what he'd really wanted to say. It was irony; Bumblebee discovered that the boy found the one thing plaguing his own processors in a painful cycle of cruelty.

"If it wasn't for you, Sam would still be alive!"

Staring at the tableau, Simmons only turned to Glenn a disgusted look on his face.

"You just had to open your mouth didn't you?"

The portly man shook his head waving a finger at the scene.

"I didn't mean them. I wanted to know about that thing from before, that one that was trying to kill us."


	3. Re boot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing BeexSam (with others developing)  
> Rating PG-13  
> Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. Hasbro does. All characters are 18 or older with the exception of Annabelle.  
> A:N Here is Chapter 3, Enjoy
> 
> This has been beta'd, but nobody's perfect. Comments and Critiques are welcomed and encouraged.Thanks!
> 
> Summary: As with life, not everything is going to go the way you want it to. Not everyone is just going to lay down and die. For the Autobots and their companions this lesson is just beginning.  
> An AU with mature themes and oft ignored characters.
> 
> Much of the credit for this one goes to my big sisters muzaiden & Tsumiden
> 
> So here it goes. This is the re-edited version of Sparks. Thanks to gracesolo for all of the wonderful beta work, hand holding and laughter.

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Sparks  3: Re Boot

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In the mere instant after being attacked, Bumblebee was on alert. Optics scanning base, he found the source of the disturbance. If someone had said "Speak of the devil" he would have asked, "What do you want me say?"

Curses and cruel taunts echoed around them nano-kliks before the deranged hacker appeared. Scuttling along the floor awkwardly, he lunged for the nearest creature. Bumblebee snapped into action, grabbing the youngest humans pulling them to the safety of his frame. Curling over the children, he held on, no one else was going to be hurt, no one else was going to die.

Bouncing off the yellow Autobot, Frenzy rolled across the floor and squealed. Moving again, he sought someone else to harass. Those who'd experienced his methods of attack previously, scrambled for cover. Judy found herself hauled one way by her husband as the little blur of silver cackled maniacally. Weaving past the fleeing fleshlings, the Decepticon screeched and jumped.

To the great surprise of those present and not panicking, the pint-sized harbinger of chaos clawed his way up the flame decorated appendage of Optimus Prime, slashing tires and scoring metal as he went. Prime grunted as it reached his chest and dug in, wishing death on him and his soldiers, hailing Megatron all the way. Clicking its teeth, the miniature mechanoid clawed along his chest plates seeking to cause pain and torment. It fought with an eerie sort of desperation, with the fire of one who had nothing left to lose.

Lennox and Simmons for once were on the same page as the charged towards the armory.

Claiming left over weaponry, they loaded as they moved, an abandoned forklift became decent cover. Taking the hint, from their smaller compatriots Ironhide charged his own cannons and opened fire.

Three shots connected unfortunately, only one of them hit the intended target. Off balanced and surprised the leader of the Autobots fell. The floor shook with the impact, knocking Maggie off her feet. Frenzy wobbled off Prime's form unintelligible words erupting from his processors. Hunched and half-limping, he tried to attack again claws straining for soft flesh. Irritated to the point of no return, the blond analyst lashed out with her foot, catching the little beast under the chin knocking him along the floor.

Skidding, the hacker found himself at weapon point between military figures of both planets. The canons and guns followed his jerky movements, earning another few garbled swears. Swaying slowly the little monster evaluated the situation, deciding whether to take the most suicidal course of action or not, trying to deciding whether death was preferable to failure.

"Stand down." Optimus commanded, rising from the floor.

Simmons responded immediately, the tone was sharp, one that brooked no argument, despite himself, the man was getting used to being ordered around by the Autobots.

"Not you!" Ironhide shouted a nano-klik too late. Before Reggie could bring his gun back up the small Decepticon launched another attack. Skittering along the floor, it vaulted over the tipped machine and shrieked madly.

Frenzy hit the man in the chest and dug in. Sharp claws sank into his skin, or tried to. Luckily Reggie's Kevlar vest took the brunt of the damage, sparing his life. Fabric in its claws, the Decepticon renewed his attempts at causing pain and torment. Wrenching its claws from the shredded armor, Frenzy bit the man instead, its teeth sinking into the flesh of his throat.

The surprised scream was cut off as William, drew the little bugger's attention with short burst of gunfire. A well-aimed shot caught the twitching machine in the blue optics, earning a few more incomprehensible snarls and hisses.

Under the bright chassis, Mikaela could barely make out the scene before her.

Another burst of cannon fire and she shoved impatiently on the arm shielding her.

"Bee."

Miles on the other hand, curled further in on himself as the cool blue liquid dribbled over him. The gunk clung to his skin and sunk into his clothes, staining it in wide strips.

Although, it wasn't the worst of his problems. Just above him the damned creature that had been supposed to protect Sam was attempting to kill him and Mikaela. Well it hadn't really moved since the fight began when it had grabbed them both, but he was sure it would.

"Bumblebee" Mikaela snapped impatiently struggling to get free. "I don't need to be sheltered!"

The words came out harsher than she intended, but the much abused Camaro refused to move. A crackle of static crossed his audio processors, before his radio managed to convey his feelings.

" _This ain't the time, the place for us to understand this life. I will protect you, I will protect you"_

 _  
_ Jerking up from the floor, Miles collided with the yellow, blue streaked chassis, but didn't miss the symbolism of the song itself. Rubbing his head he turned to look at Mikaela confusion in his features. He had to be loosing his mind or what was left of it.

"Did he just play Korn?"

She nodded, reaching up to stroke the plates of metal above her head. The thing trembled above them, but made no move to permanently end their lives. Gunfire and screams echoed outside their self-appointed shield, the sound it made was more of a gurgle than anything else. Looking to his blue stained fingers, the Miles looked back to the creature and the damaged he'd caused. The wrenched cabling and wires in its throat looked painful and quite possibly life threatening. Rubbing the back of his own throat, he found himself stumbling over the words he had to say.

"That was… I mean, Sam liked them."

The statement felt incredibly stupid and worthless as an apology, but to his surprise he found its bright eyes staring at him, upside down.

Its eyes flashed and the meaning was startlingly clear.

" _I know."_

The deep voice of Ironhide had the scout half rising from his position. He kept low, his hands almost blocking the pair at his feet. Looking to the damage, he wasn't surprised by the circle of soldiers covering the Decepticon. The blue optics flickered as the thing swore loyalty to Megatron and death to those defied him.

"Stand down, Decepticon" Ironhide ordered, cannons whining just above the twitching Cybertronian.

Turning to him the diminutive hacker began sputtering the longest, most outrageous sounding chirps, snarls and clicks any human had ever heard. At the Autobots appalled and horrified expressions it was also one of the foulest things their kind could have ever said to another.

At the stunned silence Glen once again added his two cents.

"I guess the little guy said no."

Frenzy whirled sizing up the man, and leaned forward his optics almost blazing.

"Of course I said no, you unsightly organic insect."

The razor sharp discs propelled at the human were more than enough punctuation.

Glen tumbled back, as the silver weapons sunk into the ground at his feet and into the wall behind him. The reactionary attack by Ironhide made a sizeable hole in the concrete and scorched the floor around it, directly to the Deception's left.

It chided back at him and grinned. Stepping forward, putting himself between the humans and their antagonist, Optimus Prime regarded him.

"You are alone here, there is no one coming for you. Stand down and you will not be harmed."

Ironhide snorted at the words, but made no attempt to correct them. This was one of the situations where arguing would only make it worse. The Decepticon seemed to consider the words briefly before replying. His claws rippled impatiently along the floor as he examined the weapons of those threatening him. "No one?"

"You're alone, scan for yourself to confirm."

In the moments it took for him come to the same conclusions, he decided the most appropriate course of action despite its suicidal nature.

"Barricade ddead? WiWitwicky dead. Fair trade."

The moment he voiced the foul stuttered words, all fell silent. Moving faster than the human eye, Bumblebee struck. The impact of the blow left the imprint of his hand in the concrete and the wobbling Decepticon. Sparks flickered up from the connection of their mechanical flesh, the light surprising all present. The unusual power danced up their respective forms. A responding flicker of energy answered in kind making the situation that much worse. All of the robotic aliens turned as one, looking to the source.

Before the Autobots could react or otherwise decide a course of action Frenzy skirted his guards and scaled the torso of Ironhide. With a leap he ducked into the cover of a torn air duct avoiding the hail of bullets that followed. Once the threat of danger was over, things resumed their semi-functional nature. A quick check confirmed that everyone present was alive and mostly undamaged. Rising from behind the cover of the Autobot leader Keller turned to Simmons.

"Where does that lead?"

As hands worked furiously at cleaning and stanching his wound, he gritted his teeth and answered.

"It could take that thing anywhere and we don't know where it's headed."

"Can't you follow him?"

Eyeing the analyst, he managed a pained grin.

"Unless you have the ability to trace alien life forms Miss Madsen, I think we're out of luck."

Snorting above them, Ratchet chose to point out the obvious.

"He's taking the ducts east, for reasons as of yet unknown."

It wasn't a long, before Optimus spoke.

"Find and secure Frenzy, the last thing we need is for anyone else to be hurt."

With that, the functioning Autobots transformed and took after the fleeing machine.

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The ducts were dusty and cool, but by far the best escape route Frenzy had. Damaged and weak, the hacker crawled along, claws clicking rhythmically against the walls of the shaft.

Focused on the almost palpable energy that had distracted the stupid Autobots, he moved desperate to find the source. It was power and power was good. He was alone. None of his faction would come to save him. None of them would have been close enough to try. He refused to accept the fact he was the last. There was no possible way Megatron would lose, not to humans and Autobots. He was far too close to victory.

The vent split in two directions and Frenzy paused, and it proved to be critical mistake. Behind him the metal corridor erupted in flames. Cursing the Autobots' Weapons Specialist, Frenzy fled through the left passage after the flickering energy source. It was familiar maybe another of their kind. It was faint, but there. He would find it and make it his own, twist to Decepticon ways. As always survival was the key, revenge and torment would come later.

Yes, revenge, he'd tear the optics from the stupid creatures shooting at him and crush the spark of the scout who dared to harm his partner. Barricade, if he was dead, he'd slag them all to the pit and back. It wasn't compassion or kindness that drove him, no it was the sheer anger at them for taking his partner. He was the only one allowed to torment the deranged Interceptor.

He snarled again, hating the stupid Autobots and their stupid humans in the same breath. For the glory of the Decepticons!

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A flash of energy and he was absolutely cold. Dead, freezing shivering cold, he couldn't move, he couldn't speak. He was alone, so dreadfully alone and it sucked. All at once he felt it. A burst of warmth tingled along his flesh settling in his chassis. His eyes opened slowly, white filling his vision as the warmth intensified, pulsing within his chest with all the power of a dying sun. It was excruciating the heat trailing the cables and veins burning its way thorough his frame, earning a howl from his audio processors.

All at once it stopped the light pouring away from his twitching fingertips, leaving him limp and trembling. His heart pounded in his chest as he sucked air into his lungs panting with exertion. After a moment more, when the world seemed to be coming back to him, he decided to move. The sheet slipped as he swung his legs over the table its edge almost as cold as the air itself. Hissing, he slipped to the floor stumbling as he settled his weight on his feet.

At first glance the room was sterile and quiet, three walls filled with shelves and miscellaneous equipment he had no name for. The fourth held a draped curtain over a glass window and a door. On closer inspection he found the only egress shut tight and locked. Reality set in and he began to panic.

Normal hospitals just didn't lock patients up. Worried and confused he began pacing.

Upon closer examination he discovered the while he was wearing a hospital gown and had previously been in a hospital, this place he'd awakened in was certainly not a hospital. An assortment of knives and tools occupied the counter, along with a small folder filled with paper.

As expected his curiosity got the best of him and he picked it up. It came as no real surprise when the header bore his name and extensive personal information. The real issue he found with the whole thing was that the slot for his death was incorrectly filled in. That couldn't possible be right. He was still alive. He couldn't have possibly died. He was standing there reading it. He couldn't be dead.

Stranger things had happened. Aliens, secret government organizations, not to mention the fact he'd nearly been killed. A quick examination revealed a few new additions to his body. More specifically, the silvered lines and swirls across his chest, along his arms and down his legs. He hadn't had those before. He didn't inspect them too closely; he was half-afraid of how far they went and what else he might find. A few more experimental pokes confirmed it he was definitely alive. He was also confused, half-naked, supposedly deceased; but on the plus side, alive.

An awful screaming echoed above him and something exploded from the ventilation shaft, taking out the shelves on the wall in front of him. Jumping back he avoided being crushed in the process. As he peered at the creature, blue optics met brown and realization struck. Frenzy screeched again and reached for him, shaking with rage.

Sam stumbled back, afraid that this time he really would die.

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It was hard maneuvering down the hall in his alternate mode, but Ratchet managed, tires squealing as he took a corner. Bumblebee was ahead of him leaking profusely, but he'd refused treatment and they hadn't the time to argue. His passengers were Mikaela and the young human male who'd refused to leave her side, Miles. He'd have to inquire later, now really wasn't the time. In his own cab, Captain William Lennox and Reginald Simmons loaded their weapons and hung on. The signal of the little monstrosity was stronger as they sped down the hall. All at once the yellow Camaro stopped at a dead end, doors flung wide.

Following suit, the chartreuse Hummer began one of the most awkward transformations he'd ever experienced. The amount of twisting and rolling he achieved would have made Jazz proud. By the time he finished, Bumblebee was crouched low his weapons charging in the white hall. Before anyone could speak a terrified scream cut the air.

"What the hell is going on in this place?" Will demanded, gun snapping into place.

Deep in the bowels of the Hoover Dam, inside the stronghold of Sector Seven, Bumblebee's spark pulsed. Confused he could only turn to Ratchet as the warnings flashed through his systems. The wounds inflicted on him were finally taking their toll. Motor function was down to 35% and dropping fast, stasis was imminent. He had no time left.

Another shout and he reacted, punching through the wall as the humans dove for cover. Bits of concrete and plaster rained down, revealing a human struggling with the Decepticon beyond the wall. A single shot from the scout's cannon and the hacker struck the far wall. Scans and vocal recognition confirmed the identity of the barely clothed human standing amidst the rubble.

Alive and staring back was Sam.

The young man turned towards them, smiling wide at his friends. At least until the familiar yellow Autobot crashed to the ground, optics dim.


	4. Up Load

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. Hasbro does. All characters are 18 or older with the exception of Annabelle. This has been beta'd but nobody's perfect. Comments and Critiques are welcomed and encouraged. Thanks!AN: I owe so much to my biological sibling and the ones I've adopted along the way. I dedicated this chapter to dragoona for her excellent skills as a beta, Muzaiden for hugs and the ocasional slap upside the head and tsumiden for just listening to me. God I love them! These three have been invaluable during the writing process and I am so thankful for them and their help
> 
> So here it goes. This is the re-edited version of Sparks. Thanks to gracesolo for all of the wonderful beta work, hand holding and laughter.

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Sparks 4 Up Load

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Sitting in a hanger of the beneath Hoover Dam was not how Samuel Witwicky imagined spending the day after coming back to life.

 If he was completely honest with himself, he hadn't expected to die. The whole experience was pretty surreal.

At the moment he was both trapped and ignored by a sea of people chattering at a pace he just could not understand. He was no longer cold, having been "gifted" with the ugliest uniform of a secret facility in the history of the government. Sam felt stiff and uncomfortable. Especially since he had yet to be graced with any apparel that resembed underclothes. He couldn't help but sigh again. He wished to be anywhere but there. In an underground hangar with a gaggle of excited and concerned family and friends, both Autobot and human.

Bumblebee was gone. Moved to another hanger for treatment the instant Ratchet had judged him stable.  It had been rough transporting him from the environs of the cramped and dingy hallway, but it was done. 

Getting Sam back to the main floor had been quite the adventure as well. Both Miles and Mikaela were still shedding tears and had almost crushed him in their attempts to embrace him. Sam had to admit that had taken the cake. He was still pretty iffy on the being dead thing, but to hear how and to see the relief in the faces of the ones he loved? Sam's grasp on reality was further compounded by the sight of Optimus gently comforting his  sobbing mother.

Sam continued to question his sanity as things kept on going from weird to downright creepy

He continued to shift minutely. But whether it was in response to his  itchy clothes or a mere subconscious desire to edge away from the minor rabble he didn't know. He had questions, lots of them in fact, but he wasn't getting any answers. So far, all anyone seemed to care about was that he was alive and that the Allspark was gone. Sam didn't have any answers to proffer in either situation and he really wasn't sure if he even wanted to try.

Miles sniffled hard. His cheeks smeared with tears and he wiped his runny nose on a somewhat dirty shirt sleeve. In the next moment he proceeded to punch his best friend on the arm hard enough to startle and raise a bruise.

"That's what you get," he warned as Sam winced. "You scare the hell out a lot of people and they'll never let you forget it."

To his chagrin, Miles was right and had begun to respond, when he turned to speak to his girlfriend. Unexpectedly, Sam found that Mikaela had retreated to Ironhide's side. She stood, watching as he demonstrated the efficiency of his cannons to the late arriving Tom Banchek. As the head of Sector 7 he hadn't seemed enthusiastic about dealing with the recent damage inflicted on their facility. Still  Ironhide was evidently quickly updating him about the whys and wherefores of the situation.

Across the room, Sam noticed his parents deep in discussion with John Keller. Although he couldn't quite make out what they were saying, Sam had heard his name and the words "national security". It happened enough times to make him even more nervous. It also didn't help that his mother kept glancing back every few seconds to give him a worried smile. She may have calmed down since the initial shock, but she was still upset and needed reassurances that her son was still alive and well

Suddenly, Sam decided he had had enough. He rose sharply to his feet and took all but three small steps before he was subjected to the intense scrutiny of every eye and optic in the hangar. He waved his arms sheepishly and pointed in the direction of the hall color flooding his face.

"Bathroom."

With such a simple lie, he was released. Optimus' bright optics continued to track his path as Sam gingerly crept past the hunks of destroyed equipment. Sparing a single glance back at the cluster of people, he slipped into the hall and went looking for his car. The trail of bright fluid that had leaked from his guardian was easy enough to find splattered over the cement floor.

The trail lead to a secondary hanger and inside he found the massive CMO working on the still yellow mech. His attempt at subtlety was foiled by the surgeon who didn't even have to turn.

"He'll be fine."

I didn't-" the human began, but was silenced by the look Ratchet spared him prior to resuming his work.

"You came looking for him."

It seemed explanation enough for he said no more about it. The large fingers continued their delicate maneuverings inside Bumblebee's exposed circuitry.

As he stood there and watched the larger mech operate on the throat of his best friend, Sam suppressed shudder. It had to look worse than it was… right? Bumblebee probably couldn't feel it at all. Even so he found himself shuffling forward to be at his side anyway.

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Simmons had steered clear of the N.B.E's the moment they'd arrived. It was bad enough their first encounter hadn't gone so well.  The team "charged with the security of the planet" had damaged one of the damned robots that stepped in and saved their collective asses.

As if he really could have screwed up more but he had, taking the nosey little pal of the Witwickty kid. It was days like this that he hated, knew his father wouldn't have been proud of him. He should have known better. He'd trained for this, groomed for it. A Simmons had always been a part of Sector 7 from the beginning. It was tradition. One he had come perilously close to destroying with his stupidity. Striding through the base, he looked over the damage and the people working on repairs. He probably should have listened to the kid sooner, but he had his pride.

Funny thing pride, it was the sort of thing that got people fired. This job was not for people who relied on their emotions. This job was for people who put aside their own squabbles, for the common good of their people and their government. Suddenly, it had become the world as well. Maybe things were changing. Maybe he wasn't cut out for this job anymore. Debating the merits of going to clean out his desk; he moved for the doors instead, he needed fresh air.

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Things were not exactly as they seemed. Almost all traces of the Decepticons had vanished, Optimus Prime was not surprised. They'd gone off to lick their multiple wounds and plot. Until they acted, however there was little he could do. On the other hand, there was something he had to do. In light of recent events, the Cybertronians had to make some sort of contact with the government. It really wasn't as if their appearance was some closely guarded secret. But maybe, just maybe things were looking up.

After their initial introduction, things could have been much worse. Banachek, to his credit had admitted to all present company and the president over a secure line that the situation had been taken care of. It was the truth at the very least.

The next thing on his agenda however was the next step in dealing with the N.B.E.'s that had literally saved the planet from invasion or worse. Even after everything, it would have been so simple for the Autobots to destroy any evidence of their presence and ways. But they hadn't and they were staying on earth.

Questioning their leader, he almost expected some heartwarming tale about life on their planet being of value in the grand galactic scheme of life. What he didn't expect however were the Prime's next words.

"This war isn't over."

If Thomas Banachek was surprised by the words he tried not to let it show, instead opting for a peace offering rather than the Spanish Inquisition. After all as important first impressions were, second and third impressions tended to yield better results

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Frenzy snarled and hissed swinging at the humans attempting to hold him down. As highly unpleasant as his capture was, the fact it was humans that bound him was downright embarrassing. Oh, if they could only understand the death threats and promises of violence he directed towards them. They would pay for their transgression. This Sector Seven, they would pay.

Frozen gas brushed across his optics, earning the fleshlings even more of his verbal diatribe. A swift backhand from the weapons specialist and the foul mouth little hacker was flat on his aft swearing revenge. As the obsidian  Topkick  loomed threateningly in his vision, Frenzy was well aware of the sudden drop in his core temperature.  That and the subsequent shutdown of many of his vital systems in response to the freezing spray.

"Remember this, you little glitch." the metal behemoth growled in their native tongue, his words accentuated by the unmistakable sound of charging plasma cannons. "It's because of Optimus Prime that you live. Be grateful and keep you claws to yourself. Even he won't be able to save you should you harm any other creature on this planet."

Snarling again, Frenzy moved his claws irritably against the floor as the temperature dropped a few more degrees. Blue optics finally dimmed and began to shutter involuntarily as essential subroutines and programs began to fail. His spark began to pathetically flicker beneath his scorched and crushed chassis.  It didn't matter in the long run for he was a Decepticon. He was  a survivor and he certainly didn't need the compassionate gestures of that pathetic, pit-slagged  Optimus Prime.

After all, he alone knew where the All Spark's final resting place was. In the end, victory and glory would belong to the Decepticon faction and that human insect Witwicky would be crushed along with everything he held dear.

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Glen was high as a kite, and he was pretty sure Maggie felt the same way.

"Are you serious?"

Keller rubbed the bridge of his nose again looking at his new senior analyst and her beaming hacker assistant.

"I'm pretty sure he's serious, Glen" she replied trying to keep the excitement out of her voice.

"Miss Madsen, Mr Whitmann, I'm quite sure you understand the need for secrecy in this organization. In this case, however it is imperative we utilize individuals with the skills and knowledge to respond to a situation."

Pausing for effect, the Secretary of Defense didn't get the chance to finish.

"So we're all like secret agent and shit? Wait till I tell-"

His friend and new boss slapped a hand over his mouth cutting off his next words.

"Secrecy." he amended. "Got it"

Satisfied he'd made the best choices for the job, Keller he shook their hands.

"We're leaving Washington at the earliest convenience."

Maggie and Glen looked at each other in a manner reminiscent of kids espying all the presents left under the Christmas tree by Santa.

"Yes Sir." They replied sharply, unsure it a salute was strictly necessary.

Nodding the Secretary of Defense turned to finish other arrangements.

"Oh and Glen?"

"Yes sir?

"I'd cut down on downloading songs, If I were you."

As the color drained from his face, Maggie had to resist the urge to laugh.

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Miles was a fairly observant person, or so he liked to believe. Unfortunately, it did take him a little longer than one would expect to notice Mikaela as she slipped out into the hall. Excusing himself from the room, he followed her closely, it really wasn't all that difficult, she was examining the trail of blue liquid on the floor. It looked like antifreeze, but probably wasn't. It had been pouring from Sam's Alien Car Thingy after he'd attacked it. The only possibly explanation was blood. Oh god, there had been so much of it.

Had he killed Sam's car?

That was one thing a tune up probably wasn't going to fix.

Mikaela finally stood and looked at him, bright traces of the alien blood glittering on her pale, slim fingertips. The shirt she wore was covered in sticky substance and dirt although he couldn't honestly say it was a bad look. Even with her smokin' bod and pretty eyes, he suddenly couldn't look at her, it was just too weird.

Scratching his neck, he opened his mouth to say something anything.

"It's ok, you don't have to apologize to me:" She soothed, reaching for him. "I'm not the one you hurt."

He allowed her to take his hand, and followed her lead.

As convinced, as he was that this was a bad idea, he really didn't protest as they stepped over the threshold and entered yet another hanger.

The room was filled with plenty of noisy machines none of which he could identify. Focusing on the situation at hand the blond found himself staring. From the little gasp from Mikaela, he knew he wasn't the only one. Above the their heads was the recently revived figure of Samuel Witwicky straddling the large hand of the alien resembling a Search and Rescue Hummer

Biting his lip, Miles had to admit it was hot. His supposedly straight, best friend was stripped very nearly to the hips, the black fabric pooling about him as he moved. His arms were raised above his head in a manner comparable to mythical virgin sacrifice.

Mikaela, bearing witness to the scene as well, held her breath. Sam was, to put it simply, breathtaking. All the way down his torso silvered marks had made their home in his skin. Inhuman in their design and expression, the tattoos matched the simple lines and shapes of the All Spark

Staring at him, the young woman was suddenly afraid. They had not been warned about this, but then again, who could have known? Who could have said that alien robots were going to show up. Or that they would need your help to save the world and to fight another faction of aliens hell-bent on the destruction of your entire species? Who  could have predicted that Sam would die and then  be resurrected. The entire situation was really and truly one huge, glorified mass of messiness and confusion.

Shaking her head, the woman's gaze briefly flickered to Miles. His eyes were still locked on the shape of his best friend and the way he squirmed under Ratchet's scans. She turned back to look at Sam, suddenly glad she wasn't the only one utterly fascinated by the changes of his body.

Miles finally just covered him mouth unwilling to break the spell that had trapped them. The slight tremors of Sam's body made him seem unusually vulnerable. He spared a glance at Mikaela; he was convinced she felt exactly the same way. Her brown eyes moved, following each shift and twitch of the teen perched on Ratchet's hand, far above their heads. She took a small step forward and bitterness surged through Miles, woefully unbidden.

For his part in the play, Sam didn't notice, so focused was he on his current predicament. Watching the mech holding him, he couldn't stop trembling. It wasn't the scrutiny of the medic's blue gaze, rather the feel of the energy cascading over him, invading the very pores of his body. It tickled more than anything else; it took all of his composure not to laugh out loud. To his surprise, the world suddenly spun as Ratchet turned him in his hand.

Half clinging to the Autobot's fingers, he found himself staring down at the body of his friend. Bumblebee was fine, he'd been assured, the injury had been bad, but not in anyway life threatening. He would be alright; he just needed to take it easy. Smiling softly the dangling human stretched his fingers towards the sunshine yellow Camaro.

So near and yet…

All at once, the blue optics flickered brightly and the young scout chirped loudly. Sam stared at the previously injured mech who had been resting so peacefully just several moments before. He had to admit, it was so much better to see him functioning. He'd seen the Autobot frozen, tortured and even blown up in the course of twenty four hours it was a relief to know he was alive and well. Ratchet made a low noise, but didn't protest as the human was drawn from his grasp. Sam yelped as Bee's large cold fingers encircled him, but found himself beaming at the mechanical face pressed to his chest.

Mikaela seemed to visibly relax at the reunion; Miles wasn't quite sure how he felt on the matter. That large thing had been called Sam's friend and had apparently protected them, but did it have ulterior motives? Silently he watched them both, glad his friend was all right, but uneasy all the same.

Sam smothered another snicker as Bumblebee chirped and squeaked his radio emitting a cacophony of several different songs. It was as if no single song could express what he felt.

_"Ibeenmissingyou/nothingisthesamewithoutyou/suddenlyIsee/you'realwaysinmyheart_."

It was almost cute, but then again he had to admit, he'd been acting the same way. 

Well without the singing.

"What happened to your voice anyway?"

 The mech refused to reply instead cuddling the half-clothed teen to his faceplate.

Patting the mech, the young man tried to cheer up his robotic friend while attempting not to flash his friends.

 The rough Sector 7 jumpsuit just didn't fit and kept sliding halfway off his ass. Wriggling in the gentle grip, he was blearily reminded of King Kong.

"It's ok big guy, I'm fine," he soothed

However, Bee seemed more intent on discerning his charge's status for himself.

Turning the previously deceased human in his hands, he scanned the recently acquired discolorations on the sun-kissed expanse of Sam's back. They were so hauntingly familiar and it was as if he'd known of them all his life. He turned to Ratchet inquisitively, in the hopes that the Hummer might proffer any suggestions for the miracle of Sam's recent resurrection

The large medic however was focused on the newcomers, running scans as they moved from the doorway. Sam waved to the pair, a movement Mikaela happily returned and Mile reciprocated with a bit less enthusiasm.

"Oh Miles, I want you to meet—"

Swallowing his pride, the blond shrugged.

 

"We've met."

Sam could only grin with the pride of introducing his best human friend to his alien Camaro.

Looking around the grimy and somewhat dilapidated room, Miles absently picked at a strange and crumbling blue substance flaking off of his skin.

Instantly, Ratchet focused in the somewhat surreptitious action and his scans confirmed what his optics had already. "Bumblebee."

Interpreting the medic's statement as the command it actually was, the scout lowered his human to the floor whilst chirruping at his senior officer. His questions and worries were ignored in favor of the alternatively blue streaked figures on the floor.

 Dried Energon, it covered the humans. While it was the lifeblood of the Autobots, there was no telling the potentially deleterious effects it could have on humans.

Glancing about the room, Ratchet decided to act on the most suitable course of reaction.

 

"Strip."

The command surprised the trio of teenagers, but they had no time to argue as he lifted them from the floor and deposited them into an unused chemical shower in the corner. Cold water splattered over them earning a cacophony of yelps and shouts. Looming over them, the medic repeated his previous order.

It was awkward and squished within the small confines of the shower stall as the teens struggled to remove their clothing whilst still staying under the rapidly warming spray. There was no time for reservation or modesty. They moved quickly to toss the spoiled fabric to the floor.

 Sam sputtered under the spray while vigorously scrubbing the blue gunk off of his flesh.

 Beside him, Mikaela tried to push her hair from her face. Over Sam's back, her eyes met Miles' and they both blushed. As if bidden, their eyes hesitantly trailed over the dripping flesh and surreptitiously followed the blackened lines across his spine. Their gazes then dipped down over his backside briefly before they both turned away.

"Have you been working out?"

"What?"

Miles' question was ignored in favor of the mechs watching them.

Turning her back to them the young soaked female suppressed a groan. "Do you two mind?"

"No, not at all."

It was at that point that Miles realized things could only get stranger from there; he tapped Sam's shoulder and was rewarded with another glance down his dripping torso

"You missed a spot."


	5. Hack n Slash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> : Chapter 5 and the revision of chapter 4 are dedicated to: muzaiden because i love her to bits,]dania99 for her all her help and kindess dragoona for her support. Thanks a lot! and Merry Christmas to everyone!
> 
> So here it goes. This is the re-edited version of Sparks. Thanks to gracesolo for all of the wonderful beta work, hand holding and laughter. You're my hero hon!

Sparks 5

Hack n Slash

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As much fun as the Autobot Earth base Tyger Pax was, Sam was bored out of his mind.

Ratchet had suggested he take it easy and as an afterthought had ordered him, not to do anything strenuous or stupid.

Things had gone pretty smoothly, at least after Optimus, Banachek and Keller had their "talk". No one was really sure on the details but in the end the Autobots had their base and the Government secrets were safe. Things progressed to a semblance of normal, if normal meant hanging out with giant robotic aliens on a regular basis.

Unfortunately 'normal' meant they had building to do and with that, Sam couldn't help. It was that fact that left him with nothing to do. Bee had commiserated until he, too, was sent on active duty. He'd complained that he was supposed to be guarding Sam but that was just an excuse at best. As long as Sam was at the base, he was perfectly safe. The yellow scout had wanted to argue, but Ironhide had sternly informed him that Sam's entertainment was a lower priority than work he'd been assigned. Besides they both knew Samuel was supposed to be resting, Ratchet had quite a few assumptions as to his particular condition and wasn't willing to take any chances although it wasn't like the teen couldn't take care of himself. Aside from the Decepticons from whom they'd heard nothing, the only thing Sam was in risk of dying from was boredom.

Squashing his protest, Sam waved his guardian away. If Bee had work to do, he certainly couldn't detain him, not for too long at any rate. The robotic alien Camaro was about to disagree, but Ironhide had growled and off he'd gone. Sam was sure the conversation wasn't over, but was glad for the reprieve. Slipping out of the base he spotted Optimus Prime recharging in the fresh air. Crossing the sand he made his way to the dozing Autobot leader.

The large truck was bright in the desert sun, heat waves rising from his flame licked body. Staring at him, Sam had to admit it was kinda cool. Shielding his eyes from the sunlight, he pressed a hand to the door. It was warmer than he expected, making the teen hiss in surprise. His fingers tingled lightly, but it was reassurance that he was still alive. He smiled despite the minor irritation and touched the door again.

"Samuel?" The response was instantaneous; he hadn't known Autonomous life-forms could sound sleepy.

"Yeah it's me."

Not that the usually thirty-foot tall being couldn't tell who it was, but he was raised to be polite. A loud click sounded, a rather obvious invitation, one he had no problem accepting. Pulling the unlocked door wide he swung himself inside. It too was hot, much muggier than he was used to, but his protesting body insisted he take the opportunity to stop moving and take the invitation to relax.

Stretching out across the seat, he sighed and peered through the windshield.

"What brings you out here Sam?"

The tone was gentle and reserved; Optimus always spoke to him that way.

It may have had to do with rather recent near death experiences or the marks in his chest but he didn't want to the think about those.

"Sorry big guy, I didn't mean to bug you."

"You are not a bother Samuel, I am merely curious of your presence."

"Not much." he admitted finally.

Prime made a sound and turned his systems towards the matter of the human in his cab. A scan confirmed Ratchet's earlier assessment, but the not the reasoning behind it. Something was affecting the boy and in turn any being he came in contact with. He too was beginning to feel it, the energy of something not human. Was it the remains of the All Spark and if so what was it doing to Samuel? The uncertainty made the Autobot worry, tinges of the same sort of melancholy he felt when he thought of his home.

"What is presently occupying your thoughts?"

On his back, the youth managed a shrug, fingers tracing the stitches in the leather. The movement surprised Optimus, though Ironhide had warned him. Humans were a rather tactile species; Bumblebee had laughed at the statement, but had refused to share the joke. It was something they would have to learn on their own; the young scout had enjoyed parroting their own advice back at them.

"I was just thinking." Sam replied, the statement not much of an answer in itself.

Optimus tried again, much out-of-practice with the antics of a sparkling. A sparkling prepossessed with petting his seats and anything he could reach. When blunted nails tapped over the dashboard, Optimus rumbled, snapping them both from their thoughts.

"It's stupid..."

"Samuel?"

The boy shifted uneasily, his fingers stilling in the sunlight.

"What if…" his voice wavered slightly and then trailed off as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer. He screwed up his courage and finally asked.

"What if I had succeeded and thrust the All Spark into your chest?"

Sam's breathing slowed, but he continued, staring straight ahead.

"What would have Megatron done?"

It was dangerous thinking, dwelling on what could have been rather than what was. It had led to suicide missions and fatal battles all too often. Unsure of how to respond, the Alien-In-Disguise-as-a-Peterbilt-truck began to consider the thought.

It had been a selfish, yet noble plan. It would have ended their war and begun another. Megatron was just as likely to murder his own kind and enslave another for not getting his way. It was madness, but the Decepticon leader was no longer known to be wise or sane. Humans and Autobots alike would have suffered to that end. Would it have really been better than things now were?

"It's best not to think of such things." The words were so faint that Sam almost didn't recognize them. He nodded to the dash, and settled back against the seats. Somewhat satisfied with the answer, the silence washed over them urging something else to be said.

"We are here and what we do now is more important than anything that might have been."

Those words, calm and reassuring were just enough to cede the young man from his thoughts. Before he'd asked, he'd thought so too.

A sudden rap on the door startled him, and it swung wide revealing the form of yet another teen.

On the lowest step peeking warily into the cabin, Miles waved. "Hey."

He'd somewhat had calmed down about the alien robots after they'd seen him naked and he'd been granted clearance. Officially, Samuel James Witwicky, Mikaela Banes and Miles Lancaster were the newest recruits in the Tyger Pax immersion program. Off the record they were the youth liaisons between the Autobots and the US government, which in young mister Lancaster's opinion was the lamest way to say glorified baby sitters. No one had agreed with sentiment yet, at least not out loud.

As of the last week, they'd fallen into a basic routine. The three teens had standing invitations to visit the base whenever they could and when they did; it was all gentle greetings and things very much out of their world. Ratchet would insist on a checkup every other week. Standard safety precautions for their exposure to Energon and to develop a baseline the effect Cybertronians had on their overall health.

So far there was nothing out of the ordinary not counting Sam's tattoos. As near as anyone could figure the designs were just that. No tests in the past week had caused even so much as a stir. From his chest down to his hips, parts of his arms and a bit of legs, the spirals and dots were slightly raised on the skin, almost like burns. As the rest of him was unscathed he'd stopped worrying about it, and simply come to grips with his new alien body art.

His parents on the other hand, were not pleased with the development. His mother had just about point blank ordered him to have them removed. He'd been willing to try at first, but ultimately decided against it. He had enough of doctors and hospitals for a lifetime. On that note, there was still the matter of dealing with his death certificate. No one at the hospital could be convinced he was still among the land of the living. While it was a fun way to tease his friends, Sam was getting tired of "laying low".

He turned to Miles and flashed a grin. "Hey."

The greeting earned a wave and Sam pointedly looked from the teen to the dashboard in front of him. Swallowing hard, the blond took the hint.

"Uh, Hi Optimus sir."

"Hello Miles."

Still nervous around the Bots, he tried not to let it show. The Autobots found it a bit peculiar, but humored him, mostly. Ratchet had taken to calling him by his given name as opposed to the diminutive. Mikaela had claimed it was how he showed he cared, but Sam had neither confirmed nor denied the claim. For invading alien robots, they were pretty cool, but Miles preferred to drive himself to the base.

It was weird, riding in the transforming aliens. Just, really weird. He was never quite sure where he was putting his hands and after the incident with Bumblebee, he was pretty sure he'd rather not know. Sam really couldn't blame him, but was glad he stuck around, what were best friends for anyway?

"So you ready?"

"Ready for what?"

Leaning a bit further in to the cabin, Miles rapped his knuckles soundly against Sam's forehead.

"Earth to Witwicky, come in Witwicky. Don't tell me you forgot?"

"I didn't." He replied defensively, shrugging as if it helped his case.

Rolling his eyes Miles took a step up, leaning further into the cab, car keys jingling on his hip.

"You and me, Tranquility, Friday nights?"

"It's Friday?" Sam repeated dumbly, underscoring his failure to pay attention.

"Give the guy a prize."

"I completely forgot!"

"I know."

Thankfully for Sam, his best buddy wasn't a complete pain in the ass about it his memory lapse.

Since kindergarten the pair had a tradition of spending every Friday afternoon together. They hung around the mall, played video games, caught movies and generally had a good time. While the habit had been due to lack of other friends and since high school, a lack of girl friends, the sudden alien presence had thrown off their dates. Not that either of them called them dates.

"C'mon and leave the big guy to his nap and get rolling."

The affectionate term for the Supreme Commander had garnered quite a bit of attention from the other Autobots. Bumblebee thought it was cutest little thing; his moniker however was rather less endearing.

"Lemme say bye to Bee and we'll be off."

"The Car probably already knows, besides he and Mr. T were heading somewhere when I showed up."

Mr. T was the silliest, yet most respectful nickname he'd come up with for Ironhide. When asked what it meant, he claimed it was short for Mr. Topkick.

Sam knew otherwise, but the Weapons Officer didn't seem to mind. In his opinion, he was at definitely worthy of a title insinuating respect.

The Car, Sam sighed, bad enough his world had been turned upside down in the course of a week, but then his best friends didn't get along. It was almost worse than high school. That was yet another reason in a list of many that he was glad for the summer.

Bumblebee was downright civil to Miles and the teen was remarkable clipped in return. Frustrated, Sam had decided to hang out with them separately, it was ultimately for the best. In the end, there was no love lost between them.

Running his hand through his hair, the teen nodded in agreement. They'd had to get going if they were to be back before dark. Sam's familial imposed curfew had been extended to cover the Autobot base, but Primus help him if he was late. Optimus' responsibility speech was just as bad as his father's and he didn't need to stop for air.

Shoving Miles aside Sam slid from the cab, flashing a grin at the Prime.

"We're heading into town, we'll be back later."

Even though he really didn't have to report to the Autobot Commander, he respected him enough to so anyway. Besides he was bit more impartial than his own parents were.

"Stay out of trouble."

The mech had adopted the salutation, finding it useful when dealing with his subordinates and the younger individuals he came across. Will Lennox found it particularly amusing, probably since he was a parent.

Saluting the truck, Sam marched across the sand, falling in step with his friend as they moved toward the parking lot.

0505050505050505

Mikaela wasn't positive, but she had the niggling feeling that something was wrong.

The Cadillac Escalade she'd passed five minutes ago had moved, and this time it was in a Handicapped parking spot. Waving off her giggling friends in favor of the suspicious car, she made a call to base. If the illegally parked vehicle had a Handicap sticker she'd just chalk her suspicion up to paranoia and take a nice long vacation from anything involving aliens. If it didn't, well it was better call it in. Some of the newer converts really weren't so friendly and she had the bruises to prove it.

The Mountain Dew machine temporarily stationed at the Hoover Dam facility had canned three people before it had been convinced it was among friends. It was actually kind of cute, when it wasn't menacing anyone. The base staff had affectionately named it Dewbot and it was content to stay provided no one resorted to violence when it refused service. For a soft drink dispenser, it had particular views on the safe amount of caffeine consumption by humans in a given period of time. It was probably due to the health articles that Maggie kept sending it.

Madsen was still on a temporary base assignment for Defense Secretary Keller. She and Glenn had made up the technical support while the newest eggheads were still in selection. Along with Simmons as their unofficial superior officer and the occasional back up from the Autobots, Sector Seven was just beginning its long road to redemption. Sure, the path was tough and no where near easy, but things had to change. As humans, they couldn't just accept that things were happening that they had no control over. They may have been giant aliens on the planet, but it was still their planet.

Simmons had been pretty clear on the subject when he'd pulled her aside after Sam's resurrection insisting that her talent was better than just lipstick, engines, belly shirts and Juve. She'd slapped him then, he'd simply told her to call him when she made up her mind.

"Not just because criminals are hot?"

"Not just because you're hot."

She'd accepted the position then, without even considering a refusal. It was a shot at something, better options than nothing. It wasn't easy, but that didn't stop her. Her only regret was that she' yet to tell Sam about the job. She wasn't sure how he'd take it. Sam was still in the mindset that the Sector Seven was the root of all their problems. They'd attacked his Bee and that was enough for him to hate them. He was so thick sometimes, really cute, but tragically stubborn. That was probably another one of the reasons that their "relationship" was probably not gonna last to much longer. It was a real shame, but Mikaela was still really glad she'd gotten in that car.

0505050505

The Tranquillity City arcade had been a complete waste of time. There had been nothing worth the trip. They'd avoided the racing and shooting games like the plague and neither of them felt like dancing. A movie was out of the question; especially with the Alien movie marathon in full swing. Something like that was a bit too normal now to be an escape.

Hands stuffed in their pockets the teens made their way back to Miles' car. The blue Chevy Corsica LTZ sat quietly on the corner patiently awaiting the arrival of its owner, strictly in the nonliving kind of way. Again, Miles really had a problem with sitting inside alien cars.

The day hadn't been a complete waste of time, they'd gotten away from everything, well they'd tried at least. It wasn't their fault things were different and it wasn't going to be the end of the world if they were. Together, the teen crossed the streets they'd been down a hundred times before; passed the shops they'd been in and out of since they could ride their bikes and passed the stupid jerk who'd bullied them since they'd thrown him in a trash can as kids.

The jerk leaned forward, stuck out his foot and that was all it took for Miles to make the most impressive face plant that Sam had seen all year. Landing hard, he made a pained sound and clutched at his arm.

"Smooth Move." Their assailant hissed his voice soft and cruel.

They knew instantly that the rough sarcastic tone belonged to none other than Trent DeMarco, quite possibly the bane of their high school career. Trent or the ape-man as Miles preferred to call him was not in the best of moods. It took one look for the teens to figure he'd heard the latest gossip about the rumored relationship between his ex-girlfriend and Samuel Witwicky.

In fact, the moment he'd come to that obvious conclusion, he'd made it a point to trash the dork and his loser friend all the more. After all what could be more perfect than getting revenge on the girl who ruined his rep and the shit-head she settled for? What he hadn't expected was for the little guy to call him on it.

"Yeah, really? Tripping folks DeMarco? I honestly thought you were better than that."

Moving to help Miles to his feet, Witwicky sized Trent up again.

"I guess I was wrong, but then again we both know I wasn't the only one."

There was no mistaking the venom in those words or the thinly veiled insinuation behind them.

Sam turned as he was, never saw the punch coming. He recoiled from the hit, stumbling back into the street. He blearily heard the screech of tires before he bounced off the hood of a car. Pushing off he moved purposefully raising his fist to strike back. If that was how DeMarco wanted to play it was fine by him. He'd been facing his fears a lot recently, and the jock couldn't compare with the nightmares he'd seen. Trent grinned and raised his own hands, more than ready to beat the living stuffing out of the punk.

Sirens sounded suddenly catching them off-guard, still on the sidewalk Miles swore colorfully.

Sam turned to greet the officer sliding out of the driver's side, ready to explain his side of the story. He knew he was in the wrong, but he'd be damned he wasn't going fight it. He'd been arrested before. As the man came around the car however, his heart froze in shock. A glance at the car was all it took. He was doomed.

"So we meet again, Mr. Witwicky." The tone was so harsh, so filled with violence that Sam stumbled over the curb as he tried putting as much distance between them.

Trent for his part couldn't have been more thrilled with the events unless his Ex had been in attendance. Adopting an innocent expression the teen held up his hands, and played the fool.

"It was an honest mistake, I didn't mean any trouble."

The officer ignored him completely, focusing on Sam.

"Miles," Sam hissed trembling. "We have to get out of here."

Confused but compliant the teen nodded.

"Why?"

"That's-"

Sam's statement wasn't finished as the officer lunged and trapped him against the shiny blue hood of Trent's Hummer.

"Dude, no one touches my car! I-"

Cold eyes sized him up and the words stopped abruptly.

"Would you like to be arrested for aiding and abetting?"

A simple headshake was good enough to satisfy the officer with the moustache.

Sam however was nowhere near as peaceful. Kicking, stomping and yelling he generally made a nuisance of himself. Any other officer would have had an issue with him, but this one didn't bat an eyelash. Hauling him towards the car, he reached for door. It swung open before he touched it, but no one noticed.

"Miles! Get Mikaela, Get my Car, Just get the Hell outta of here!" The half-coherent screams didn't stop as he was shoved in the back of the cruiser. Slamming his fists against the window, Sam tried harder than ever to be heard. The blue uniformed office slipped back around the vehicle and tipped his hat to the teens that stared back.

Miles, at a loss for anything better to do jumped into the street as the car whipped past him and made and illegal U-Turn into traffic. As it passed again, Miles couldn't just stand there and watch as his friend was taken. Pissed off to the point of no return he seizing a rock and lobbed it at the back windshield. It was a Decepticon; a fucking alien robot had just kidnapped his friend.

Apparently no longer in the mood to be nice, the cruiser slammed on its brakes and hit reverse. Weaving through oncoming traffic it cut its wheels and turned heading straight for the boys.

Miles managed to scream fleeing for the safety, but even that was not enough to stop the Cop-Car-on-A-Rampage.

Slamming into DeMarco's parked Hummer, it reversed and hit the car again rocking it on its wheels. A third impact and the Hummer tipped, falling towards the young man standing just behind it.


	6. Jacked In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fic has been my baby for a while now and I really appreciate all the feedback I've received. Feel free to leave a comment with anything. Be it request, ideas or just speculation. I want to know what you think. Thanks to Dragoona and Tsumiden. You guys are the best. This chapter is dedicated to Muzai .( Happy 21st baby, you've come a long way.)!  
> (And to those who might not have been paying attention this chapter is rated (M)  
> That means dark things be a happening. Consider yourself warned.  
> To all who read this thanks and enjoy.
> 
> So here it goes. This is the re-edited version of Sparks. Thanks to gracesolo for all of the wonderful beta work, hand holding and laughter. You're my hero hon!

06060606060606

Sparks 6: Jacked In

06060606060606

Stuck in the deranged police cruiser, Sam kicked the back of the driver's seat and demanded his freedom. Barricade responded by shifting gears, increasing his speed over the cracked streets. Outside the window the scenery whipped by, the Decepticon's sirens screaming the whole way. Stuck along for the ride Sam alternated between pounding on the windows and digging his house keys into the leather seats, trying to stop his kidnapping-in-progress. The traditional divider was missing in the Deception's alternat,e mode so there was nothing to stop the teen from making his way into the front seats.

Weaving between a truck and the meridian the Barricade sped up again, the force of the maneuver flattening the teen to the back-seat. Unwilling to give up, Sam knelt instead; the minor shift of equilibrium allowing him to half crawl, half drag himself between the front seats.

Digging his fingers into the headrests, the teen rose into a crouch. Precariously balanced, he slammed his foot hard against the gearshift throwing the car immediately into chaos. The forced gears shifting made an awful grating sound as the cruiser slammed into reverse. Almost as quickly the brakes engaged, the Interceptor halting in its tracks. Slamming against the dashboard, Samuel was only half aware of the horns and squealing tires of the other cars on the road.

Scrabbling at the steering wheel he clung to both it and the gearshift pulling his way into the driver's seat. Between his fingers, the gearshift moved again, heedless of his vice-like grip. The engine revved again and the car took off. Staring out the windshield Witwicky gritted his teeth and hung on. Switching lanes, Barricade whipped past a semi and in front of a school bus filled with kids. Kicking the dashboard as they passed the exit for Mission City, Sam swore again and toed his foot toward the brake.

Hard fingers curled about his throat, cutting off the air to his lungs.

Above Sam's body appeared the not quite-there-representation of the Police car. Blond hair stuck out oddly from the black cap on his head and the almost handsome face twisted with concentration as he attempted to wring the life from the boy. The non-biological strangling him settled heavily over his body, a knee digging painfully into his groin. That discomfort was minor compared to the denial of oxygen to his systems. It hurt, by god it hurt. He was dying, he could feel it again. He was going to die, he had to escape, had to stop it.

Striking the body pinning him, Sam aimed for vital organs and that sneering face. It did him no good, the nails dug into him and bruised the flesh of his neck. Gasping for air, Sam railed against his attacker clawing at the strong hands; tried to fight and above all survive.

The assault continued, the mech choking the life from its human passenger as he sped down the freeway. If the boy was going to be such a nuisance, he was far better off dead.

Megatron would not be pleased, but the lure of ending Witwicky's life was far too tempting for Barricade to pass up. Tightening his grip slowly he could feel the soft tissues beneath his fingers, could sense the adrenaline surging through the organic system. Against his grip the pitiful little thing writhed and struggled, tragically unable to protect itself. The human's terror flowed off of him in waves; the beauty in its pain twisted features would be etched in Barricade's optics until the day he off-lined permanently. Oh, this moment he would enjoy.

Sam gasped again, his strength failing him in the end. Unable to even scream, he looked into the glowing red eyes of his murderer. He stared, imprinting the last humanoid face he'd ever see. He stared until his eyes watered. He stared until his vision swam and his heart raced. Flickering red light danced before his eyes and he sagged in the chair, his chest burning. The last thing he was aware of was the derisive laughter of the Con as everything faded from sight.

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Frenzy paced the walls of his tiny prison and hissed angrily. Here he was, held captive by the Autobots, locked away until they could figure out what to do with him. As if he, a Deception would submit to their pretty little ideals of peace and love. Locked away in a little box, it was not the worst punishment he'd ever received. Megatron would do worse for a mech that failed him on a regular basis. Imprisoned, it wasn't death, but it was a long way from failure. He was at the least still functioning. It was far better than most of his companions.

The slagging Autobots had him trapped in the middle of nowhere. As far as he could tell he was far beneath the surface of the Earth encased in a box of steel, encased in concrete. He'd already attempted escape, but he was certainly not the burrowing sort of mech. That was better left to Blackout's drone Scorponok. Rolling and twisting in the four by four space the cassette snarled. There was barely enough room for him to maneuver or even fully stretch. The Autobots had grasped the concept of psychological torture all to well.

It was probably the big brute's idea. Ironhide had a severe dislike of Decepticons, not that he blamed him. Smashing his head into the wall, the mech swore loud in three incomprehensible languages. He couldn't even access a satellite. The absolutely worst thing about the situation was the silence. He could handle being frozen, he could handle not knowing if he would awaken or not. What he could not stand was the glaring lack of any signal at all, friendly or otherwise.

Clawing his little coffin Frenzy briefly considered off-lining himself, just for something to do. The Autobots would just love that. Oh they would squirm at the sight of his limp, silent body. They'd probably even try to save him. As tempting as the thought was he had neither the tools nor skills to make sure his "suicide" wasn't permanent. No matter how bored he was, Frenzy was not about to give the Autobots the pleasure of watching him break. He'd sooner convert to their side and help the stupid fleshy insects.

The irony of the concept was not lost on him. He knew very well that his appearance was rather comparable to an insectoid species that inhabited the Primus forsaken ball of dirt, water and organics. It wasn't as if the measly creatures weren't killing it off themselves. Dropping to the impenetrable surface of his new home, he curled up chittering to himself. It was best to give up and go crazy from the beginning of the isolation. There was more of a chance to inflict chaos and torment on that which came to inspect him first.

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Mikaela ducked the missile aimed at her and slipped into the alley. The aftershock of the attack slammed her against the wall and she grimaced. This was not what she needed today. Flicking open her cell the pressed the third speed dial, again. Not ten minutes before, the suspected Decepticon vehicle she'd been tailing had suddenly turned on her and fired, its wheels spinning as she scrambled for cover.

Fleeing the territorial rage of an as-of-the-moment unidentified Cybertronian Mikaela Banes nearly had a heart attack. There in the alley was it? No it couldn't have been but there it was. The very truck she'd used during the Mission City battle to save Bumblebee. The paint job needed some work and the window was covered in plastic and tape, but she was convinced it was the most beautiful vehicle she'd ever seen in her life.

Rushing to the white Ford, the young woman smoothed her hand along the driver's side door, thankful for the miracle before her.

"I am so glad to see you. Remember me?"

She cut the plastic right down the middle and reached inside the parked truck. She'd would totally call Mike's towing and reimburse them or something, somehow, but now was really not the time. Hell, she didn't even know why she was talking to the truck itself. Maybe it was the panic maybe it wasn't, maybe it was the fact she had a close bond with giant alien cars or maybe it wasn't

She'd deal with it later.

"Listen, I'm in a bit of a jam and I need your help again. I promise I'll make it up to you. If only you'd jus-"

Just as before the rumbling of the engine was sweet music to her ears. Slipping to the driver seat she grinned at the Déjà vu and put the truck in gear. She cut it a bit close, but pulled out into the street accelerating past the car that had tried to kill her. Thankful for small miracles she kissed the steering wheel between her fingers and headed out of the city and her pursuer followed close behind.

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Trying to urge his heart back out of his throat, Miles took a deep breath as Trent raged behind him. Tipped over on the sidewalk was his "precious baby" and all he did was scream. What a baby.

She was upside-down, half on the sidewalk, crushing a parking meter with a cracked window on one side and a major dent on the other. The Hummer's driver's side door was practically inverted on its hinge and the weight of the vehicle was crushing the frame further into the pavement. As he stared at the damage, Trent tried calling his insurance company again. They'd hung up on him the first time.

It wasn't that Miles didn't sympathize with him. There were just more important things to be worrying about like Sam.

"Fuck!" Miles shouted balling his fists.

How could this have happened?

He had just gotten Sam back, only to have him ripped away days later. It was the beginning of a cruel vicious cycle. He was definitely reconsidering his stance on illegal aliens, the robotic transforming kind.

This was definitely not good. He couldn't panic. He had to calm down for Sam's sake. He had to think.

Still lamenting the fate of his "baby" DeMarco furiously turned on the teen.

"This is your fault!"

Already frustrated the blond absolutely refused to take his bait.

He wasn't going to take it. Not at all. Sam needed him more than Trent needed as crash course in common decency.

"I'm talking to you, fairy. It's a wonder you didn't get arrested for crimes against humanity."

Clenching his fists, Miles held firm to his beliefs. He was not about to let DeMarco get to him.

He'd survived classes with him for years. Five little minutes were nothing.

"DeMarco I don't have time for this." He replied sharply.

"What's wrong, afraid they'll have at your little boyfriend before you do?"

Slapping his hand over his face Miles tried another tactic.

"You just don't get it do you? That was not a police officer. Hell that wasn't even a real car!'

Trent stared at him for a full four seconds before looking back to his cell. He turning he muttered something about insurance and triple A.

Miles groaned, he wasn't even sure why he was still standing there. Things were happening too fast and he didn't know what to do. Sam was depending on him to help or at least get the "The Car". And there he was trying to prove something to Trent freakin' DeMarco. Some help he was.

"Give me your phone!" he demanded with a snarl.

"What?"

"Give me your phone!" he repeated, pointing at the cell.

Trent lowered his sunglasses and narrowed his eyes in an implied threat. Miles was no where near as impressed as he used to be or even remotely surprised.

"It's a matter of life or death!"

Moving back to the upside-down blue Hummer, Trent refused.

Again the exasperated teen wasn't surprised.

"Okay let me put this in words that even you can understand. If you don't give me the phone right now, the Decepticons are going to get away with this and Sam will die!"

Covering the phone, Trent gave the little homo-freak a withering stare.

"So?"

If possible Lancaster looked even more pathetic than he usually did.

"Sam. Will. Die!"

"And that's my problem how again?"

The clenched fists and the set of Lancaster's jaw briefly reminded the jock of that day on his porch six years prior. Stepping back from the fuming young man Trent hoped desperately that the freak wouldn't try to kiss him again.

Miles took two steps forward, peaceful mantra forgotten in his rage. That fucking jerk was going to get a piece of his mind. He stopped dead as the bright blue Hummer began to shudder. Every curse, threat and complaint died on his lips as the previously tipped vehicle unfolded into a rather familiar shape. Well sort of.

In the middle of downtown Tranquility in broad daylight the Autobot, at least he hoped it was an Autobot was transforming. Behind them patrons filed out of a shop staring in horror. Briefly reminded of the Mission City Incident Miles sighed. Further down the block someone screamed and cars screeched to a halt. Panic seemed to set in their audience seemed to disburse in a mass of screaming people. Surprised but almost relieved the teen turned back to the bot.

The doors slid away as the bumper shifted upward, the pieces rearranging themselves into a new figure. The torso was broader and rounder than Bumblebee's; the alien was definitely taller as well. The bright blue shades meshed perfectly with the silver along the long legs and curled up its sides and shoulders. There was an odd sort of beauty in the machine pushing to its feet. It had to be twenty feet at the least. Once finished, the Cybertronian loomed over them its optics brightening.

"Tell me you didn't just say Decepticons."

It was then Trent began screaming, again. Dropping to his butt, his mouth fell open as he stared up at the creature that used to be his precious baby. Miles nodded solemnly and snatched the cell phone from his fingers.

"Fraid I did… ma'am."

Ma'am, it was obviously feminine, the voice too sweet and sensuous to be anything else.

His eyes roamed back over her chassis and he this time he had no doubt she was a female of the alien species.

"Chromia." she corrected softly, her tone affecting a southern lilt.

Nodding, he turned back to the phone and searched the call list for a particular number.

If they were going to handle the situation, they were going to need help.

Still not quite recovered from the shock, DeMarco stood and pulling the sunglasses from his face.

"You can talk?"

"I can do more than just that." The bot purred leaning closer.

Unnerved he almost stepped back, but his eyes caught the Hummer symbol on her arm.

She was his car. His car. Oh Boy. His car was that thing…. Chromia he corrected himself, she was his car.

Slowly almost against his will, he reached out to touch her.

Somewhere beyond his field of vision, he heard Miles talking to himself.

"-no not there, then she must be under… ah ha, Bunny!"

Confused, Trent stared at the machine unable to say anything, well unable to say anything of consequence.

That living breathing car-thing was his. The giant car was his. The robot cart thing was his-

"Bunny?" he repeated dumbly from his robotic induced stupor. She laughed leaning close enough for him see his own startled reflection in her panels. The bright eyes flickered in what he assumed was a wink.

"Yeah honey?"

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Relief and panic simultaneously invaded his overwhelmed senses as Sam tried to sit up. A spasm of pain rippled through him and he groaned, even making the sound was painful. A quick glance and he ascertained three things about his surroundings.

One, he was in an abandoned warehouse of some kind; two he was surrounded by Decepticons and three the floor beneath him was covered in blood. A wave of nausea struck him hard and he covered his mouth trembling on the cold surface. Barricade loomed over him, optics glinting.

He scuttled back across the floor, his hands found a bit of stray tubing, and he lifted it and swung. An offhanded blow knocked him easily from his feet. Dazed he barely had time to he avoid the massive fist slamming into the wall of the "base". Fury etched into the mech's features as his claws closed over the fleshling on the floor.

"You interfere with me again and I will make you suffer as you beg for death."

Squirming under the rumbling Decepticon, Samuel was only too happy allow his displeasure to be known. The saliva trailing down the enraged shock trooper's face was by far the last straw.

Closing his hand tight the Decepticon lifted the boy from the floor and slammed down hard, knocking the air from his lungs. Coughing the human struggled, trying anything that would dislodge himself from the grasp.

His attempts were ineffective but he tried, earning a cruel chuckle from the transformed cruiser.

"You wouldn't dare." He rasped and his words rung with false bravado, the mech was unimpressed.

"Your presence here is enough to make the Autobots suffer more than just killing you outright."

The snarled words rumbled over him, as the Decepticon tore at the fabric and flesh over his torso.

He winced again clawed at the metal fingers pinning him, desperate for some sort of escape. The digits enveloping him squeezed just a little harder. "Your condition however is negotiable."

"Barricade." The command in that voice stilled the alien-robot intent on ending his life.

Squirming in the tight grasp Sam caught sight of his savior and doom. Megatron, the harbinger of death and evil megalomaniac moved closer, the other robots parting before him. Sam found himself dropped back onto the cold floor and the shooting pain in his side was enough to distract him from almost anything. Shoved to his knees before the Lord and Master of the Decepticons, he stared up at the walking nightmare and trembled.

"You, fleshy pathetic insect that wrestled my victory from me."

Sharp talons raked across his back tearing both fabric and skin. Hissing in pain, teen wobbled falling forward to his hands; even so he could not wrest his gaze from the eyes glowing in the dark.

A single claw eased over his shoulder and forced up his chin.

"Tell me how you wish to die."

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Ironhide rolled out of the Hoover Dam motor pool following the speeding yellow Camaro closely.

Bumblebee had been petty but had preformed his duties as ordered by his commander, nothing more could have been expected of him. If the Autobots were to remain on the third planet in the Sol system they had to make peace with the natives. Even if they didn't particularly care for them.

Reginald Simmons was quite possibly the most irritating human he'd met so far, but even he could change. He'd been faultlessly polite, even going so far as to inquiring about their well-being. While Ironhide hadn't cared to respond he could respect the sentiment.

The junior officer had taken the moment to express himself in his own endearing fashion.

"Well,I'mnotokay,I'mnoto-fucking-kay"

The operative had stepped back choking on his words. The scout had been smug until informed that Optimus would hear of his stunt. He'd refrained from pulling that particular trick again, but the meeting had gone down hill from there.

Attempting to humor Bumblebee and keeping the peace had been a full time responsibility,

Optimus probably should have sent Ratchet, but he hadn't and Ironhide would go willingly to the pit before he failed his commander. They'd been reacquainted with the command structure and the ranking personnel.

The humans Maggie Madsen and Glen Whitmann had been pleasant to interact with, the female had gone so far as to asking permission to touch Bumblebee. He'd almost refused her, having formed an attachment with another human already, but he'd finally relented when she insisted it would be a hands only sort of thing. Mr. Whitmann had only watched, at one point he mumbling something about hot women and hot cars. She'd glared at the comment, but Bumblebee chirped in agreement.

Getting back on topic, the Autobots were introduced to the few Earth-born Cybertronians in protective custody. The seven-foot tall, four armed, soft drink dispensing creature known as Dewbot was polite and unexpectedly brilliant. Bumblebee unfortunately made the mistake of calling it cute in their native tongue. In response Dewbot analyzed his statement, downloaded the language samples isolated from the Decepticons in the Qatar base and Air Force One attacks, translated the information, pieced together their basic alphabet and simply told the Camaro exactly where he could shove it. All of that was done in the forty-five seconds it took to give Glen a soda. Ironhide liked him already.

In the end, the overall progress was acceptable. While their previous methods had been undesirable the honesty and forethought that Sector Seven now presented was admirable. It almost made him ignore what they were hiding. Simmons was dedicated man, but he had his pride. In the end, his results would justify his means, no matter the consequence. Bumblebee was proof.

Ironhide rumbled and sped up, passing a few drivers to reach the scout.

"Slow your roll, kid, this isn't a race."

Bumblebee made to respond, but something had drawn his attention. Scanning the surrounding area he discovered something of interest. Relaying the information to his lieutenant, he whipped across three lanes of freeway traffic and made for the off ramp. Blaring his horn the black truck followed, texting Will on the way, he'd be late getting home.

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So maybe going out to the middle of nowhere was the worst idea she'd ever had, save for her tragic choice of boyfriends. In her humble opinion, life kind of sucked. Dangling upside down from her seatbelt Mikaela Banes was so not panicking. Glancing out the nonexistent window she caught sight of the mech stomping towards her. Smothering curses she rattled her seatbelt, struggling for freedom.

With each step it took the earth shook and the white pickup wobbled dangerously. Finally working her way free, she patted the steering wheel in appreciation and apology. Crawling from the wreckage she wiped the blood from her arm and made for the pseudo-safety of the hills. If she could just get away from the car stalking her, she might have a chance. Skirting the smoking crater the F350 had flipped into she ran and didn't look back.

For the second time in her life things exploded, bits of rubble flew through the air, and Mikaela found herself lifted from her feet. Screaming hysterically, she struggled in the large fingers pounding and kicking her captor. Steeling herself, Mikaela looked up to see what had just happened. On the ground twitching was her pursuer with a sizable hole blown out of its chest.

Holding her in his hand, was quite possible the most beautiful mech she'd ever seen.

The blue and white head moved forward his silver faceplate nearly touching her trembling body.

"Are you alright?"

Blinking rapidly she stepped across his hand embracing his face.

"I am so much more that alright. You just saved my life."

Thank god for small miracles, no scratch that. Thank god for large miracles that came in the shape of giant-alien-robots. As she held him, she could hear the whirring of the joints and mechanic bits inside.

"You asked me for help." He replied softly, the actions vibrating her form.

She laughed and he released him and managed a bright smile. "That I did and you so came through. You are totally my hero."

The remarked seemed to surprise him, but he nodded his assent.

The sound of tires kicking up gravel came closer and two familiar figures made their appearance. The yellow Camaro stopped short as the truck lowered Mikaela to the ground. Smiling she waved to him and Ironhide as he came closer.

"Mikaela?"

"You would not believe the day that I've had."

The mechs looked briefly to the wreckage in the dust. Bumblebee honked in reply.

"Ok so maybe you would." She relented.

Behind her the truck shifted back into his slightly abused alt. Ironhide moved closer ready to attack.

"Is this guy a friend of yours?"

She never got the chance to answer as her cell began to ring. Rolling her eyes at the name in the caller id, she considered ignoring it. Practicality however won out. She moved away from the circle of vehicles to answer the caller. As she departed, the Aliens took the time to introduce themselves.

"Ironhide and Bumblebee, Cybertron"

"Long Arm, Earth,"

They didn't get much further than that because Mikaela's voice suddenly got louder.

"Why the hell are you on Trent's phone? What about Sam?"

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It had happened so fast. That hand trapped him again and he'd screamed. The human's struggles were in vain as he was lifted from the floor once more. In brief moments before his earned execution, something unexpected happened. Sam's much-abused shirt finally gave out, splitting right down the back dropping him again to the floor. Once again, denied his malicious entertainment the Decepticon leader tossed the torn fabric away reaching for the stunned human. Just before his talons pierced the supple flesh a single light caught the lines decorating his pale torso. All at once among the assorted aliens, optics processed the marks and analyzing them as they all reached the same conclusion.

"The All Spark."

Sam trembled under their scrutiny and Megatron loomed closer. For the second time in so many days, he feared for his life. The claws touched him again, a firm pressure on his torso but nothing more. His heart pounded in his chest, it was almost louder than the buzz in his ears. Another poke and he swayed on his feet, the buzzing became louder and his vision swam. Another poke and he wobbled suddenly dizzy, unable to remain standing.

When he finally fell, no one cared. All optics turned to Megatron fearful and apprehensive.

"It is the All Spark, but it is useless to me in that pathetic shell."

Scrutinizing the Mechs before him he continued. "Starscream, remove the cube or find a way to harness its power. Do not fail me again."

Scowling at the weak boy on the floor the Air Commander could only reply favorably.

"Yes my Lord Megatron."

Turning suddenly the seeker swept from the room snapping at a subordinates as he moved off.

"Barricade! Bring the human."

Seizing the limp youth for the second time that evening the cruiser followed the fuming mech.

Dangling from the mechanical digits Sam could do nothing but groan.

The room, more of a factory floor than anything else; was cold and filled with twisted machines and broken metal. In the corner, he caught sight of the mangled bits of a Decepticons in a heap. Crossing the threshold Barricade deposited him none too gently on a makeshift table. Scrambling away from his tormenter the human was surprised by the sudden appearance of someone else. The shorter machine moved along the floor its segmented tail swinging as it climbed up beside him

Starscream watched as the human scooted to the center of the platform, his primitive organic optics searching for any escape. Starscream briefly allowed it to cling to its foundling hope before crushing that too. Slamming a claw against the metal, he knocked the weakling's legs from under it. Scorponok chittered moving along the edge scanning the human carefully. Turning to its superior, it simply transmitted the information it ascertained. 'Lord Megatron can not control it because the system is not compatible. There is nothing in the organic that can be used to access the All Spark, better to remove it than keep the fleshy thing.'

Responding in English, Starscream refused. "There must be some sort of upgrade to allow us to utilize its primitive systems. If there wasn't, the All Spark would not have bonded with it."

Scanning the terrified human again and comparable medical data from the Internet, the scorpion did indeed find a solution. Relaying the data to the Air Commander it awaited his approval. Tapping his claws on the table, Starscream couldn't have been more pleased with the turn of events if he'd slammed the All Spark into the fleshling himself.

"Acceptable, Proceed"

Shivering on the long table Sam jumped as the massive claw of the F-22 slammed beside him. At the other end of the table, the metal scorpion moved closer, a thin needle extending from the tip of its tail. Trapped between two Decepticons, Sam stood hands clenched. He was not going down without a fight; he'd fought them before. The creature struck fast, faster than he could see. Instinctively throwing himself to the table, he avoided the first attack but not the second. The stinger impaled his raised arm at the wrist splattering his blood everywhere. Just as quickly it withdrew, the mech hissing incomprehensibly. Choking back his screams, Sam briefly saw the tail rise again. On his knees all he could do was try to protect himself. The third blow caught his other arm almost in the same place, this time its removal spun him about knocking him to his belly, blood pooling beneath his arms.

Barricade watched from the door with detached amusement. The human screamed and fought, failed and bled. Struggling to escape, the fourth strike caught him low in the back and the fifth pierced the flesh below his throat. Blood dribbled over the edge of the table staining the floor. Avoiding the growing puddle, Starscream inspected the drone's handiwork. While this method was unorthodox, it would allow them to utilize the All Spark in its current incarnation.

As Samuel writhed in pain, clutching his throat the Decepticons worked. Holding the teen down they wired a simple synaptic network into his nervous system. Heedless of the boy's wails, the Air Commander oversaw the insertion of accompanying neural access ports. Applied directly to the skin, the ports sealed and cauterized the oozing wounds. The scent of burnt flesh rose almost overpowering the smell of coagulating blood on the floor. The silvered ports glowed on the skin, before the remaining oxygenated fluids stained them red. The bright crimson liquid absorbed by the hot quicksilver resulting in a mixture of pinkish silver, their perfection and unsightly organic. The resulting set up, however crude and messy was an adequate solution, provided it worked.

"Barricade."

While there was no love lost between them, the cruiser was duty bound to at acknowledge the seeker's orders. Stalking forward, he inspected the barely conscious human. The soft flesh was coated in blood; it contrasted sharply with the sigils burnt into its skin. With the boy weak and helpless before him, Barricade had to repress the desire to end its life. Glancing to Starscream he casually informed him that he wasn't impressed.

"I don't care about that! I want you to test them out."

Flashing his optics at the seeker, the Decepticon finally submitted and did as he was told. With luck he could overload the system and terminate the human. Megatron wouldn't be pleased, but Starscream would indeed take the blame for this failure. It would be a good way to end the day. Extending his smallest data access jack into the first port set in the pale throat, he began exploring the human beneath him.


	7. Nano Bit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This has been beta'd but nobody's perfect. Comments and Critiques are welcomed and encouraged.  
> Thanks!  
> I've been sitting on this chapter for while because i'm stuck on the next one. I was hoping to have it finished, but such chapter is dedicate to You, the readers. It is because you all that I have done this! You should all feel proud! Well without further ado.
> 
> Enjoy!  
> (And to those who might not have been paying attention this chapter is rated (M) That means dark things be a happening. Consider yourself warned.  
> So here it goes. This is the re-edited version of Sparks. Thanks to gracesolo for all of the wonderful beta work, hand holding and laughter. You're my hero hon!

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Sparks 7: Nano Bit

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Climbing back into the transformed tow truck, Mikaela muttered seven prayers to six different deities. If by some off chance one was listening she'd take any miracle she could get. As they'd expected, Bumblebee made for Tranquility limits, his speed easily leaving the trucks following in the dust. Taking a deep breath, she jumped when her cell unexpectedly rang. Answering without hesitation she explained the situation to her superior as simply as possible.

Reggie usually kept his head in dangerous situations but this didn't stop him from swearing loudly and coming close to stamping his foot.

"You need to get back here now and convince the Autobots to come with you. Call Optimus if you have to. The last thing we need is the kid's Camaro wrecking vengeance on the city itself."

Snorting back at her superior she added her two cents.

"That kid's selflessness not only saved your ass but the planet's as well."

"That's all well and good little lady, but it's our job to make sure it stays saved."

As he hung up her gaze flickered to Bumblebee in the distance, some things were easier said then done.

"Is there a problem?"

Glancing down at the steering wheel she smothered a sigh.

"Sam, my sort of boyfriend, is in trouble and there's still so much we haven't said."

Long Arm's soft response elicited a giggle from her. "You wish to tell him of your love?"

"No, I actually want to break up with him."

The tow truck fell silent considering her answer. She was thankful for the reprieve; she hadn't come up with an answer herself. Things had been so hectic since his well…resurrection. His parents were on his case about college, work and the Autobots. The last thing either of them really needed was something to complicate life further. Even so, she had to admit it had been nice having him for a boyfriend. He was easily the best she'd ever had, which really said a lot for her track record.

Maybe she should just stick to cars.

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Optimus Prime was out of recharge the instant Bumblebee's frantic message reached him. Before he could formulate and express an adequate reply, Ironhide's came.

Mulling over the information the Autobot called to Ratchet as he began pulling out of the base. The Search and Rescue vehicle was at his side faster than he expected, its sirens already beginning to whine. Turning onto the main road, he considered the most appropriate course of action.

Things were falling in to place and a life hung in the balance. As he'd feared, Ratchet's theory, coupled with the scans and observations of his team, had been correct. Samuel Witwicky was the bearer of the awesome power of the All Spark and somehow the Decepticons had discovered his survival and were intent of rectifying their mistake. There was no doubt in his mind that they, too, would discover what had happened to him and once they did Sam wouldn't be the only one to suffer. If Megatron then conceived a way to use the All Spark, humanity wouldn't be the only thing facing extinction.

Bumblebee had already begun blaming himself; he was too close to the situation. Once they retrieved Samuel he would have to seriously reconsider the scout's current assignment. To do that however, the Autobots would have to locate and rescue Sam first. Putting a call out to what he hoped were allies, Optimus Prime rolled out, his chief medical officer following behind.

Four rings and the man answered obviously not in the best of moods. "Yes? What is it?"

Clearing his vents, unnecessarily Optimus made his presence known.

"Mr. Banachek?"

Snapping to attention the human addressed the him; though he wouldn't admit it out loud all he could think of was E.T.

"Ah Optimus Prime. It's good to hear from you."

"I wish it was. Mr. Banachek, I wish it was."

Following the words and tone the human sobered. "Shall I assume this call isn't strictly social?"

"Indeed," Passing a weaving driver, Optimus continued. "I have called to inform you of some recent developments that if not handled correctly will endanger both our peoples."

Tapping his fingers on the desk, Banachek nodded to his secretary.

"Mr. Prime please, Speak plainly. If your news is this serious now is not the time to dance around the subject."

"Optimus Prime, if you don't mind" he corrected before continuing. "And dancing is the last thing I had in mind. We collectively Mr. Banachek, have a problem."

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Miles had finally reached Mikaela and given her a synopsis of the situation seconds before the cell battery died. Screaming in frustration, he'd tossed it back to his owner and gone to find his own vehicle.

The jock had protested vehemently, not wanting to be left alone with his car. Chromia had transformed back and was followed behind as they ran towards the parking lot. Miles was unfazed by the fact she was following them, Sam had warned him as much. The only problem he had was that Trent was following, too.

Once he reached his car he'd leave them to their own devices and find Mikaela on his own. Sam had been kidnapped by an alien menace and there had been nothing he could have done to stop it. He really did not need anything else to go wrong with his day. He'd had enough insanity to last him for a while. A good long while.

Trent made a sound and bumped into him, still staring at his car driving by herself.

Turning about, he finally snapped at the young man behind him.

"Get a grip! Your car is an alien from the planet Cybertron, she is an Autobot, who will not under any circumstances cause you any harm. That Decepticons which took Sam however, will cause him harm. In fact I think it's going to kill him. So unless you have any bright ideas on how to save him or stop them from killing him shut up!"

The jock blinked back in surprise.

Turning to the empty Hummer, he addressed her as well. "And you, he's new to this. Let him get adjusted to the fact he's been driving around in a giant alien chick."

"Femme." she corrected softly

"Femme." he amended before continued. "He isn't used to this. The only reason I know was because it was dropped in my lap last week and I'm still not used to it. Sam was in the middle of the whole thing and I'm pretty sure he isn't used to it either. Give the guy a break."

Heedless of the people panicking around them Miles finally summed up his rant.

"We are going to meet Mikaela, get to Optimus and find a way to save Sam. Then afterwards we can sort this whole mess out. Deal?"

Without waiting for a response Lancaster stomped into the lot, fished his keys out of his pocket grumbling the whole way. Walking past an empty space he stopped short. Walking back he examined the spot from all sides, stepped into it, stepped out and came to a tragic conclusion.

Oh he was not a happy camper.

"My car is gone!"

Not a happy camper indeed.

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By Primus, the connection worked. He'd been skeptical at first, but the resulting data was proof. The slagger had actually done it. Smothering his irritation, Barricade began moving through the layers of consciousness. Bypassing ever-present pain and fear, he dug deeper through the jumble of thoughts and memories. His intrusion however would not go uncontested. Scanning over the forgotten hopes and failed dreams he encountered the pulse of something he hadn't expected. It was something inside the human, deep inside, deeper than the tissues, deeper than the bones. The power itself was strange and brilliant, it invariably made up the disgusting thing below him and it didn't take kindly to visitors.

Taken aback the Decepticon prepared to handle the threat as he did all others. Focusing more of himself to his task he simply attacked. Rifling through the most painful memories he could find he reawakened the horror to inflict it back on its host. Before his optics the human writhed against the table the remaining clothes on his body covered in blood, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the slick surface, he screamed.

The sound flickered across his audio processors; it was definitely becoming one of Barricade's preferred noises. Back to the task at hand he changed direction skipping over the old memories for the most recent ones. Sliding over the consciousness rejecting him, he finally found what he sought. Heedless of the trembling boy's cries, the cruiser clawed his way into the experience settling into Samuel's inner most thoughts.

_"Cars pick their drivers."_

The sheer elation he felt driving the bright yellow vehicle home. It was almost perfect. It had to have been the best day of his life. Smoothing his hands over the wheel, he grinned. He had a date with destiny. A destiny that would hopefully include a beautiful girl, somebody who was like Mikaela Banes.

_"ARE YOU "USERNAME" LADIESMAN 217?"_

He was pinned, absolutely terrified and the booming voice was asking about his Ebay moniker? There was something seriously wrong with the situation. He'd really had it with giant robots and the police. Embracing the terror, Barricade was filled with a twisted pleasure at the boy's memories.

 _"Fifty years from now when you're looking back on your life don't you want to say you had the guts to get in the car?"_ Intrigue and apprehension, but he wasn't afraid. He was going to get in that car, even if he didn't know why.

 _"Look he's not fighting back!"_ Racing towards the people restraining his car, Sam attacked. Unsure what he was doing he could only stare at the blue optics flickering in pain. The helplessness in those eyes spurred him on. Bumblebee had saved his life and he was going to do the same.

Spiraling in the haze of emotions, thoughts and feelings the Decepticon was at a loss. The human mind was nothing like he expected. So many complexities, so many contradictions, it was a wonder they even functioned at all. Backtracking over the fractured mind he discovered something he hadn't encountered before. It was repressed. Drudging up the things better forgotten Barricade acquainted himself with the young man's worst nightmares.

All around him pain, fear and death. Red eyes flickered in the darkness. Trembling all alone, he screamed though no sound came. Helpless and scared he could only watch the inhuman creatures tear apart his family. Blood of their victims fell like rain over his body. Standing among the twisted wreckage of his friends he watched the bright optics flicker and die. Unable to even cry, the half-dead humans could only stare at the blood-splattered chassis of his tormenter. Megatron loomed over him, laying the crushed head of Optimus Prime as a trophy at his feet. With unexpected tenderness the claws brushed over the scars on his throat. "Now my pet… isn't this better than death?"

The new screams of Ladiesman217 hardly surprised the Decepticon connected to him. That swirl of power was back with a vengeance. It washed over him in a wave of pulsating energy that was not completely unpleasant. It was rather like the spark that lay within his chest. A terrible epiphany came to him deep within the recesses of the human's mind. This was what he'd been looking for. If that tiny bit of the Witwicky boy was like a spark, perhaps it could be used in the same way. Reaching out to the pulsing energy with tendrils of himself, he dug his claws into it. Curling about the tiny thing he set himself to the single goal of destroying it.

If his assumption was correct, the human wouldn't survive. The sheer control he experienced taming the human's light through their connection, it was exhilarating. The power that came with it, however knocked him flat on his aft. Silver blue energy crackled along the twitching body, up the cable connecting them in a direct feedback loop. From him to the human and back, over and over it cycled. Surprised, Barricade attempted to withdraw from the primitive system he found he could not pull free.

The energy of the All Spark inappropriately applied crested to a level associated with most system burnouts and continued. Soon the room was filled with screams, human and Decepticon. Starscream smiled tremendously pleased with the accomplishment. Barricade had gotten himself in too deep this time, his scans reading system failures all over the black chassis. Whatever he'd done to the boy he was getting back tenfold and oh was it worth it. All at once, the cruiser's spark pulsed and he could not only feel it, but see it as well.

Looking to the human on the table, the Air Commander discovered the chevrons engraved his flesh glowing and shifting in the dim light. Stretching and growing the designs formed new words on the canvas of his body. Reaching to touch them, he was sorely disappointed when it all suddenly stopped and both forms fell limp.

Ignoring the smoking wreckage of the Decepticon, Starscream cursed the incomplete message laid bare on the hardly clothed insect. Kicking his subordinate aside he pulled the still warm jack from the human's throat he prepared his own. He would have that message. As he'd come to understanding the human language a single sentiment seemed adequate enough.

"If you want something done right." Or something like that.

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Bumblebee whipped through the third red light and disappeared around the corner. He knew his companions were somewhere behind him, but that was the least of his worries. The Decepticon's were back and looking for revenge. He'd known they were cruel and malicious, but to kidnap someone who couldn't fight back? That was low. He'd tear Barricade limb from limb the moment he saw him. Rumbling in frustration, he finally arrived at the street where Sam had last been seen.

The near the center of the block the pavement was cracked and a lamppost was lying across the sidewalk. Scanning the street there was no sign of either friend or foe, humans scrambled along in terror through traffic, inadvertently irritating the prototype Camaro on a mission. All at once the urgency of the situation seemed to fade in the lack of evidence. Stalled in the center of the street Bumblebee swore, loudly. Behind him horns beeped their occupants growing angrier the longer he sat.

Their minor irritation paled in comparison to his frustration. The sound grew louder until he retaliated. Relying on a tactic he'd used once before Satan's Camaro simply utilized his sound system to blown out every piece of glass in the block. It was petty, but all the noise stopped at once. Satisfied with that the yellow car rode to the end of the street and turned left.

Lancaster had yet to stop screaming and Trent was getting tired of it. Just outside the lot Chromia waited, giving both some much-needed space. When the blond finally stopped for breath, he sagged to his knees in the empty parking space. Shoving the keys in his pocket he looked pitifully at the pair watching him.

"Lets go." He muttered dejectedly, pulling back his hair.

"What? Where?"

Standing Miles seized DeMarco's shirt and hauled him towards the idling Hummer.

"Like I said before. We're going to meet Mikaela."

"Dude you've lost it. How do you even know where you're going to find her?"

At the moment Chromia charged the gate pulling up before them, her doors wide open.

I heard something around the corner."

Releasing the flailing teen, Miles looked smug. Trent however was not impressed.

"That means nothing."

Chromia slammed her doors the instant he settled in the driver seat, and didn't bother waiting for them to fasten their seatbelts. Speeding down the block, she nearly passed a yellow Camaro with black stripes.

"That's Bee! Cut him off!"

The teens shout surprised both the car and the other passenger, but Chromia did as she was ordered. Slamming on her brakes, she allowed the momentum to spin her neatly across the street to block traffic.

"Bee?" she inquired sweetly of the human, but received no answer as Miles slipped out the door.

Most people tended to swear at drivers who cut them off, alien-robots however relied more on the use of their horn, not having acquired the understanding of the human vocabulary despite having downloading it in it's entirety. Obviously irritated "The Car" was not in the mood to be trifled with. His fury only grew as a familiar teen slipped from the vehicle before him. The scrawny youth moved toward him cautiously unsure what to do or say. Hands held up in surrender, he moved close enough to touch the black striped hood. "I'm sorry, I-"

The Camaro cut him off in a burst of unpleasant static, but played no music. He didn't want to talk, didn't even want to know how they'd lost Sam. Glaring at the swinging disco ball and air freshener just beyond the windshield Miles almost imagined he was looking into the alien's eyes.

"I didn't mean for this, but it happened."

The horn blared loudly in reply but he continued hands clapped over his ears as he shouted back.

"It was Barricade that took him and we both know I'm no match for him. You may be, but there was nothing I could do."

The admission of helplessness struck him hard, but he could run from this problem.

"The Car" was Sam's guardian and his friend that had to count for something.

Taking a cautious step forward, he offered his hand to the yellow car. At worst he'd run him down and go find Sam, at best. Screwing up his courage, Miles moved close enough that he could touch the driver's side door.

"Truce?"

After a moment, the Camaro's passenger side door swung open. Dumbfounded by the display of acceptance Miles stared. Had Satan's Camaro just agreed to a truce? It totally wasn't happening.

After a moment more, the bright car honked at the male in the street. Jumping to attention the blond scrambled around the car sliding inside. The door slammed shut before he'd even buckled his belt and off it went swinging wide to pass the blue femme.

The Hummer revved her engine and threw herself into a tight turn cutting off the large trucks now pulling onto the side street. The first, a Black Topkick blew his horn and uttered some rather impolite things in her general direction. Trailing the little yellow car she now recognized as Bumblebee, the Hummer laughed.

"Now Ironhide," she purred moving over the black pavement avoiding the still terrified masses. "Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

Stupefied and speechless the black truck could only follow as their convoy rode towards the highway.

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Having seen it done, the Air Commander was a fair bit more knowledgeable about the process of moving through the humans' systems. He'd paid close attention to failures and mistakes of his subordinate, so he was unlikely to repeat them. Starscream was more concerned with using the human, rather than killing him anyway. That would come later, after he'd overthrown Megatron and made him his pet. Yes, then he squish the little boy before the Autobots as a show of power. It would be grand.

As with many things, power could always be controlled. All it took was something stronger to dominate it. In his particular situation, there was no power greater than the All Spark. Due to that Starscream's attempt at subjugation would have to be somewhat different.

The boy's neural system was still lit up like a supernova and bore residual traces of Barricade's intrusion. Opting for a much more subtle approach the seeker avoided the burnt nerve endings and went for their source. Sliding over the rolling storm of Witwicky's mind, he found the miniature spark lying within him. Fluttering like some trapped creature, the swirl of energy flared and pulsed. That bit of the human was apparently displeased by his intrusion. At any moment, it could attack and force him into involuntary stasis lock. Still, he knew things that Barricade didn't, chiefly how to avoid getting scrapped.

A scan over their mock-base confirmed the presence of four mechs and one human. Blackout was long deceased, a fact Scorponok refused to accept. To that end the husk of the massive Decepticon remained in close proximity, at the very least they had spare parts. Barricade unfortunately wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Stupid fool, so bent on revenge he'd caused intensive damage to his processors. It served him right. Assigning a meaningless task to the drone, the Air Commander ensured privacy for what he was about to attempt. A spark in a human was still a spark and exposed sparks tended to gravitate toward one another. This theory held a truth to many things despite age, affiliation or even race. For what he intended, there was no way he could be more exposed.

Smothering his desire to just be rid of the human Starscream focused instead on the whisper of power through their connection. The All Spark, it had the power to grant and destroy life, to remake civilizations and doom worlds. Tracing a claw over the weak flesh, the seeker began coaxing the power from its shell. If he could tame that power, no when he tamed it nothing would be able to stand in his way. Slinking within the recesses of the semiconscious mind, he knew how to twist the power to his own ends.

Slowly and softly, with more care than he knew he possessed Starscream reached for the spark. As expected after its recent attack, it resisted. He tried again and again and still the light fled his touch. Irritated with his subordinate's stupidity he abandoned all pretenses and opened his chassis, revealing his spark to cold dead room. With that display of vulnerability, tiny tendrils of the humans' spark stretched for him almost sensual in their movement along his circuits. Suppressing a shudder at the mortal's touch, Starscream kept to his objective, the All Spark. It was all that mattered.

On the table beneath him, the human whimpered again though this time the noise was not born of pain or even fear. For all his probing of the humans' spark he found each action reciprocated. Every brush, poke, ripple and stroke was returned just as sure as it had been intentional. The human was still limp on the table, each rise and fall of his chest underscoring his strength and desperation to survive. If his retaliation to Barricade's attack had been intentional, he'd make a good Decepticon. A rather emotional stupid Decepticon, but Starscream worked with worse. Another touch to the pulsing energy and he was purring despite himself, simply enjoying the feel of another spark reaching for his own. It had been too long. Far too long.

Another pulse from the gentle energy of the All Spark and the Air Commander trembled, his previously fried systems buzzing with life. The pain from his wings faded in the near dark, the scorched metal appendages healing from the connection. The power cascaded from one to the other, clawing the table the Decepticon bit back a hiss. It was more than he'd anticipated more than he ever dreamed. Between the twisted, mangled bits of metal Samuel curling in on himself; even with his lip caught between his teeth his whimpers of helplessness were almost as sweet as his screams.

With Samuel's systems in such a vulnerable state, it was tragically easy to reroute the human's synapses to a user-friendly map of commands. For being such a basely organic species, the energy making up humans was rather comparable to that of his own kind, minus the fact they were obviously inferior. His circuits reeling with an imminent overload Starscream worked fast, imprinting his own signature across the human's neurological network.

It was done.

Just a Megatron asked. Fool, he had ordered the beginning of his own end. He would not be able to stop the seeker's plans even if he knew about them. No one could control the All Spark, unless they knew his codes and he wouldn't tell.

Starscream's maniacal joy was short-lived as talons closed painfully about his wings. The mech looming over him simply clawed the sensitive joint earning an anguished cry from his subordinate. He could feel the red optics bearing down on him as well as the ripples of pain from his link. It was bad to be caught off guard by a Decepticon. It was worse that his spark was exposed. By far the worst part of the situation was that it was Megatron touching him.

"I trust you've made progress, Starscream."

Scowling but unable to extricate himself form the motionless human the mech began to explain.

"Yes, of course my Lord Megatron-"

Another twist of those merciless claws and he was nearly on his knees, clutching the table for support.

"Then why are you wasting my time?"

The raptor snarled against the pain, his previous exuberance forgotten. He'd gotten careless, a suicidal trait among Decepticons.

Watching the seeker and human tremble filled Megatron with pride. His expression twisted to express his pleasure at causing both annoyances excruciating pain. Scoring the barely healed armor of his weakened subordinate, the Lord High Protector tried again.

"Starscream?"

Head bowed against the solid table, the Decepticon couldn't even form a reply. It was too much, the power, the pain. Another scratch and he jerked, his claws wrecking the worktable even further. Megatron hated to be kept waiting.

"My Lord," he rasped not daring to turn, to let his master see the rage in his optics. "The system is weak, fragile. Any further manipulation and the human will die. There is no telling what would happen to the All Spark then."

His words however presented, were lies to his Lord's ears.

The talons wrapped about his throat nearly destroyed his vocal processors and the cables beneath. Clawing helplessly at the constricting grip, the seeker rasped and tried begging for his life. Ignoring the helpless cries of his Air Commander, Megatron casually lifted him from his feet. Starscream hung limply from the sharp digits as Megatron accessed a single port set just above his open chest.

Pain lanced through his circuits as Megatron forced another connection through Starscream's overwhelmed systems. The sheer force of the intrusion left him spastically jerking in the other's claws. The massive mech swung his arm forward slamming his subordinate against the much-abused table. Bringing up his arms, Starscream interlaced his claws as his chassis impacted the twisted metal. The movement however slight prevented the Decepticon from crushing the human beneath him to death.

Still connected as they were, the very act of killing the boy would ultimately end his own existence. In no hurry to die, the fighter had to resort to protecting the tiny primate. His disgust of the situation was far outweighed by his desire to survive. Under the onslaught of his Commander, Starscream' s firewalls fell away, pain rippling through his receptors. A howl worked its way from his crushed vocal processors, earning a flicker of pleasure from Megatron.

His spark flared in reply, its power undulating across the connection to All Spark's avatar and back. Optics focused on the squirming fleshling, he tried to weather the rush of energy burning through his systems. The grip about his neck loosened as a clawed talon brushed along his chest plates. Choking painfully he went still unable to move as the digits slid within him, reaching for his spark.

Claws curling about his subordinate's internal components, Megatron enjoyed the wails the action produced. Slowly he stepped around the table still talon deep in the writhing seeker. His momentum forced the smaller Decepticon to rise, following the less than gentle ministrations of his master. A sudden tightening of the vice-like grip had Starscream screeching again, his flailing limbs nearly smashing the human between them. Heedless of the boy, the mech hauled his Air Commander forward by his spark chamber, the interlocking plates of his chest sliding away to reveal the equally brilliant yet truly malevolent glow of his spark. A vicious tug on sensitive innards and the seeker slumped forward, his rigid frame arching as he fell. The movement was more than enough to allow his much abused soul to meet with that of his Lord's.

Bright energy shot through the cabling linking human and Decepticon, arcing over the oozing port in his throat. It was that which finally snapped the boy from his incoherent state. Trembling from the power racing through his body, Sam was aware of everything, his very cells alive with the energy inside of him. He could feel the codes making up their systems, the tiny nanites coursing through the energon in their veins; it was all too much and still there was more. Rising to his knees, he could only stare at the autonomous robots joining above him. For that's what it was, the brilliant light of their sparks and his own spiraling with the rhythm of their dying planet. He knew it. He didn't know why he did and didn't care. He just knew.

The light between them intensified, nearly burning his eyes, the glow hot on his face. It was too much, the echoes of their coupling rippling along his connection. Fingers reaching instinctively for his neck and the jack to sever the connection, Samuel found himself screaming with the pleasure and fulfillment of alien union. Gripping the black cabling, he could only hang on riding out the spasmodic aftershocks of their climax. Within instants of the overload, the power surged again, the glow of his awakening casting shadows on their silver chassis'. The lines marring his torso shone with that brilliance, matching his eyes as light again overtook the room. On his knees, absently staring at the children above it, the avatar of the All Spark reached for them, sliver tears cascading down its face.

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The cell he'd inhabited since his capture was dark and dismal. Doomed to exist in darkness all he could hear were rats and dripping water from old pipes. Settling against the cold floor, he waited for death or at least the chance to escape. He'd been so weak the last time; out of his objectives he was sure he'd achieve the former. If it was the case, he would go out fighting.

The eerie solitude was shattered by many soft footsteps and labored breathing. Barely online, his optics sighted the squirming figure held within Scorponok's claws. Tossing the small figure in to the makeshift cell to his right, it skittered away, sparing the bot a withering glance. Most likely the drone still angry about his treatment of it, that last time they'd fought. It seemed like ages ago. With the majority of his systems still offline he couldn't even tell how long it had been. Scowling, he filtered the thoughts away and focused on his new companion.

"So what are you in for?"

In the dark he could hear the human moving closer, all things considered it was a good sign.

"I destroyed the All Spark."

The voice was hollow and strained, its owner obviously suffering the effect of physical and emotional torture. The mech however couldn't really find it in him to be sympathetic.

"Why would you go and do a thing like that?" he asked, restraining the anger in himself.

The human moved closer still and he could almost make out the scrawny body beyond the electrified bars.

"To save Optimus Prime"

Despite his weakness, he could hear the defiance and respect in that voice. He expelled air from his vents, the particular sound much like an organic sigh.

"Autobot, Designation Prowl." he introduced himself almost at a loss.

"It's really out of Megatron's hands?" He had to know or else their struggle was for naught.

"Yeah it is."

The human reached forward wincing at the shock he received from the bars. Their light enabled the Autobot to see more of his informant. A faint light glow emanated from his eyes and the shapes on his skin. The design was so familiar he knew at glance what it was. The human reached again, bearing the pain as his hand passed the electrical boundary between them. Looking at the tiny appendage the mech shook his head in disbelief.

"Who are you?"

The boy continued passing through the bars the glow covering his whole body. The light radiated from the glyphs covering his flesh. The Autobot stared attempting to make sense of what he saw. Pushing through the sparkling bars, the glowing human moved closer reaching for the mech, voice soft in the cell.

"I am the All Spark."


	8. System Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As with life, not everything is going to go the way you want it to. Not everything is going to fall into a neat little line. Not everyone you set out to kill is just going to lay down and die. For the Autobots and their companions this lesson is just beginning. An AU with mature themes, oft ignored characters and a bevy of drama and cliffhangers.
> 
> Reposted from Fanfiction.net to gear up for the sequel. 'Flames'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. Hasbro does. All characters are 18 or older with the exception of Annabelle.  
> This has been beta'd but nobody's perfect. Comments and Critiques are welcomed and encouraged.  
> Thanks!
> 
> I have finally finished this chapter. It so far has taken the longest, but it's done. Not much to say about this one other than Co-Written by Muzai (I owe that girl a cookie all the drama I've put her though)
> 
> To all the readers, betas and fans of this fic, I really didn't expect any of this.
> 
> Usually the things I write barely make it off the paper much less onto the Internet. I am so proud of this and that people like it. I endeavor to write something people will enjoy and it looks like I've done my job. To be truthful I'm not too sure where this is going, but I do hope you'll stay along for the ride.
> 
> Thanks with love,
> 
> Yuuzai.
> 
> So here it goes. This is the re-edited version of Sparks. Thanks to gracesolo for all of the wonderful beta work, hand holding and laughter. You're my hero hon!

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Sparks 8: System Crash

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Maggie Madsen was in the worst possible of moods and her current assignment had her stumped. She hadn't eaten since lunch and was not currently speaking to her partner. Behind her, not two feet away, Glen hacked his way through systems that the US Government didn't even have access to. The pair had been working since the end of their shift two hours previous and had yet to come up with some sort of plan. He was all for using satellites to find the boy, while she stood by the S7 method of tracking aliens to locate him. Their disagreement had led to an awkward division of labor and focus, each concentrating on their tactics and their desire to prove each other wrong.

Every so often, one would glance back and scowl before returning their gaze to their respective monitors. It went on this way for nearly an hour after their argument, until their eyes met and all hell broke loose.

"That is it!" Maggie was out of the chair in an instant and the sound of her heels on the concrete echoed across Sector 7 research library. Glen watched her move the can of Mountain Dew still cold in his hand.

"You are such a kid!" she snapped hands balanced on hips, her accent heavy in her raised voice.

Her blonde hair swung with her shoulders as she gave the heavyset man a piece of her mind.

"You are supposed to be the best hacker in the US of A and here you are acting like a-"she broke off stomping her foot before tearing the black headset from her head.

"I cannot believe you! This is just because I stood you up isn't it?"

The sugar dependent technician sputtered dumbly at his superior before loosening his tie. Though not necessary the action granted him a temporary reprieve from the conversation. She had to be kidding. The whole world didn't revolve around her. In fact he didn't even feel he should dignify her accusation with a response.

Used to his attitude, she could tell she'd actually have to invade his area of "Zen and Peace" to get any sort of response at all.

"God! You are so petty." she hissed waving her arms. Advancing toward him Maggie was fairly surprised when he finally stood to face her.

"This ain't because you stood me up. This ain't got nothing to with that!"

"Then what is your problem?"

Just outside of the library Ironhide was drawn from a much needed recharge by the sounds of arguing humans. Optics focusing in an instant he pushed the doors wide howling as he rose "What in the name of Primus is going on?"

The pair fell silent at the newly awakened robot, the obsidian of his alternate form glinted between the silver joints and cabling of his body, which they knew from experience, possessed excessive firepower and the instability to use it. Captain Will Lennox, a close friend of the mechanical behemoth had briefly referred to him as a "walking gun turret" an expression they could easily believe. Taking in the massive frame and the situation at hand, it seemed best to handle things diplomatically.

"Nothing at all." the woman replied, shooting a glare at her companion.

Sipping silently from his Mountain Dew, Glen ignored her turning back to his flickering monitor. They could argue later but at the moment there were more important things at hand. Adjusting his reading glasses the dorky technician made an unusual discovery.

"Uh Mags? I think I got something."

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"First lieutenant, Chromia reporting."

Snapping a salute to the Supreme Commander, the femme intended to give a full report.

At least she tried, the Autobot soon found herself under the scrutiny of the Chief Medical Officer. Turning her gaze from Optimus Prime, the bright sapphire Hummer batted the mech's wandering hands.

"With all due respect Ratchet, do ya mind?"

Ignoring her interjection and resuming his scans the bulkier vehicle scowled.

"Your secondary systems are down. Weaponry is offline and I can't believe you're still standing; let alone functional. Surprising enough, your alt mode is in better shape than the rest of you. If you weren't a femme, I'd stasis lock you here; throw you over my shoulder plate and cart your aft off to the medbay until I was sure you were running properly. "

Shifting her weight from one hip to the bot regarded the taller mech coyly. Extending her arm she poked him firmly in the chassis over the nearly hidden seam.

"I'd like to see you try."

As Ratchet took a step forward to make good on his threat, Optimus cleared his vents noisily.

"Chromia, it good to see you functioning, but we've a situation on our hands and your cooperation would be most welcome."

"I'll help anyway I can sir."

"Not if I can't get those systems back online you won't." the medic interjected flicking her none too gently in the chest plate. She scowled back, but relented. He was right in this case.

"Fine."

Saluting to Optimus once more, the Hummer resigned herself to not so tender mercies of the medic. Ratchet and his processional opinion, they were just two more things Optimus Prime was grateful for. He wasn't sure if he was ready to face her report or what it could entail. The fact the femme was alone and in such an ill state of repair did not bode well. She was a superior officer of Elita's squad. It was almost inconceivable that she'd be away from her unit, unless.

The old mech shut off his optics, losing himself fully in his memories. It was the only way to experience the home he'd left to protect. Optimus didn't even know if it still existed. As his thoughts drifted the planet, they drifted to its people. So many had died in the first attacks, the bombings; so many sparks gone to the Matrix before their time. Not even the younglings were spared. A surge of guilt flickered through his frame nestling in his spark.

If only…. No!

Such thoughts did not befit the bearer of the title Prime. Remorse and regret were better off forgotten. It was dangerous thinking; dwelling on what could have been rather than what was. For the good or ill of they had a new home and they had to protect it. Even at the cost of their lives. They had learned that lesson all too well. There had been no decisive victory, but their survival had come at a cost.

Sight gradually returned as Optimus rebooted his optics. He did not have time for this. They did not have time for this. Samuel was in danger again and this time not even the All Spark could save him. The admission was bitter, but as a leader Optimus Prime had to prepare for the worst and fight to prevent it. Above all else, his duty was to protect.

Out of the corner, of his optics the Autobot watched the smaller bots inhabiting the base scrambling along the floor. The Mini-bots, as they had come to be called; were hardly more than tiny armed sparklings, born through the power of the All Spark. They, however, were earth born and almost nothing like the youngling mechs of Cybertron. Much like any born on the third plant, the Mini-bots were quick, noisy and wildly unpredictable. Fortunately for the Cybertronians, they were exceedingly bright.

Amongst the earth-born one bot had already set itself up as both leader and caretaker. Dewbot as it had been aptly named, possessed a fierce determination that rivaled any creature twice its size. Having witnessed it standing vigil over the Hoover Dam base and its adopted brood Optimus Prime was again reminded of his long distant home. Just as the large green mech guarded others, he would as well. It was a mantel he'd taken up centuries before landing on the blue-green planet. It was a duty he could never abandon, could never forget. This time however, he would not only guard his own kind scattered amongst the stars or those born by the will of the All Spark on earth. He would safeguard all sentient life as long as his spark pulsed within his chassis or until the day all were one.

All at once, unexpected pain shot along Optimus' frame, rocking the mech on his feet. The sensation rolled along his appendages and up his torso before lancing through his spark. The agony went far deeper than just a physical wound. It rippled along cables and joints frying his systems as it went. The old mech gave an inarticulate cry, sinking to his knees. The resulting tremor shook the hanger and cracked the concrete beneath him.

The pain was incredible, akin to sharpened talons tearing his very spark from his body. As his systems shutdown, he was half-sure it was being torn from him. Clutching the concrete beneath his fingers, the Autobot destroyed the floor even further as he writhed. Head bowed against the cracked concrete, Optimus Prime curled in on himself. Despite the pain he suffered, he did is best to preserve the humans crowding toward him.

The large mech was barely aware of the screams pervading the secret facility; his processors had turned inward attempting to repair the apparent problem. As incoherent as he was, the Autobot knew it would find nothing. That pain was terrifying and had nothing to do with system abnormality. Raising his head Prime caught sight of Mikaela reaching toward him. Whether it was because she was worried or because she was scared the action warmed his rapidly pulsing spark. Shifting his weight the mech managed to lay one scuffed hand upon his overheating chassis. Another shock ran through him jerked violently.

"Stay back."

Pushing away the pain, Optimus tried to focus. He was not going shirk his duty not at a moment like this. It was like dying planet and an imploding sun all at once, light filled his optics and his remaining processors crashed. Within that light he could see tendrils of black ink shifting and raising towards the something? Was it the Matrix? Briefly confused by its intrusion, he soon discovered its agenda. As the writhing tide of shadows crested filling his vision, it wormed its way into the light seizing tiny orbs of golden blue. Tortured, the mech struggled reaching to stop it, but he was too weak and the fledgling sparks were torn from the Matrix itself.

Howling in agony at the loss Optimus Prime could only stare in horror as he realized what had allowed the darkness access to the center of being. There nestled within the pulsating mass he saw a flicker of power and its bearer. It was a familiar power, one with the ability to create worlds and fill them with life. A power they'd searched for thorough every star and every world, the power that caused the war, the power that could rebuild their world. The touch of the All Spark faded leaving no trace save the burning ache in his spark. Unable to even mourn the cruel deviation from the true cycle, the old mech simply collapsed.

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Leaning back in his chair Trent DeMarco folded his arms and glared. His companion across the table didn't bother to respond. Not that Trent cared; he just wanted to get his car, his cell phone and to go home. After all, American Idol was going to be on in an hour. The man interrogating him, known by this point as Mr. Jonathan Powers, had other ideas.

Trent was more than fed up with the turn of events. After he'd been chauffeured to the Hoover Dam in Chromia, his apparently alien Hummer; several men in suits had mobbed him. He'd been hustled in to the facility and dragged down a non-descript corridor to an empty room to wait. The featureless walls with a big blank mirror and a spindly table with a pair of chairs made him suspicious. If anything he figured it was an interrogation room. When the door opened admitting two men in suits his assumption was confirmed.

For the better part of an hour they had asked him questions and refused to release him. Like usual his anger got the better of him and fought the urge to hit somebody.

"I told you! I have no clue what's going on!" he snapped for the third time, rocking on the back legs of the chair.

Mr. Powers it seemed however wasn't the kind of man to give up easily.

"Then tell me what you do know, if you don't mind."

The jock shifted in his seat, all four legs coming to rest on the floor with a thump. He was really getting tired of being talked down to. Sparing a glance to the second man in the room his expression soured even more. He really hated it when he couldn't punch or posture his way out of a situation.

"I was giving that jerk, Lancaster a ride down here cause my ex asked me, I'm such a nice guy."

The bold lie slipped through his clenched teeth and his fake saccharine sweet smile. The one when he used when pretending to play nice. Powers gave him an incredulous look before, pushing his ridiculous sunglasses further down his face.

"Miss Banes was quite capable of delivering Mr. Lancaster on her own and for the record; he wasn't even riding in your vehicle."

Trent gave the man another dirty look, but that too was ignored.

"Would you care to give us the truth this time?"

Checking his watch, the young man refused to give him the satisfaction. "Nope."

The suited agent tapped his foot irritably and waited. Propping his sneakers on the table, DeMarco went back to rocking his chair. And in that manner time passed.

When Jonathan's patience finally wore out he signaled to the agent within the room and the ones no doubt watching from behind the glass.

"Have local law enforcement escort him home and inform his parents what he's been up to."

Sliding his legs off the table, DeMarco had the gall to look smug. "Thank you!"

His minor victory was short lived as the second agent pushed him towards now open door.

"Wait! What about my car?"

So pleased that he was had almost made it out, Trent had almost forgotten about his vehicle.

It was suddenly his antagonist's turn to smirk.

"It's impounded, of course. You may or may not get it back depending on the circumstances."

Hands curling into fists the blond scowled. He was not going to take the threat lying down.

Despite his age and supposed maturity Powers stepped into the teen's face.

"You want to try me tough guy?"

"You are so not worth it."

Before things could get any worse an irritated senior officer of Sector Seven interrupted the pair

"Hold it." Raising a hand Simmons stopped the procession of agents from the room. "Change of plans."

"Sir?" Powers stammered confusedly.

"He's been granted clearance."

With that statement the Trent found himself ushered into the gray hall, only to collide with Miles Lancaster and the incredibly stupid look on his face.

"Finally!" the teen growled, smoothing out wrinkles in his shirt. 'Kaela was wondering where they took you. C'mon."

Turning on his heels the geek strode down the hall. DeMarco considered taking out his irritation on the idiot. Practicality however won out and he followed the goofy teen through the corridor. The hall was awash with men in suits and strange uniforms hurrying off for parts unknown pushing through the endless crowd, Trent could see just the top of Lancaster's head. The idiot was getting too far ahead. Relying on the skill that made him the star of the football team, Trent bowled through the rabble taking care not to actually hurt anyone.

After what felt like forever, he finally grabbed the teen before him, stopping them just before the elevators. Spinning him around, he met the tired blue eyes with frustrated glare.

"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded angrily.

The shorter blond smirked and pressed the down button, his eyes hardly reflected his weak smile.

"Alien conspiracy," came the simple reply. "Welcome to the cover up."

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Skidding to a stop on the empty highway, Prowl was gladder than he cared to admit at see the sun. A quick scan of the featureless landscape confirmed his suspicions, he was no longer being followed. The drone Scorponok, while incredibly vicious simply did not have the speed required to catch him. Never before had the Autobot been glad that Barricade had good taste. Their shared alternate mode was really a piece of work. It was fast, sturdy, but the Decepticon logos however had to go.

It had been a major miscalculation on his part the moment he'd scanned the parked vehicle, with its sirens and lights it was no doubt local law enforcement. It had been one of the first to arrive after he'd made landfall. He felt so stupid now, how could he not have realized he'd just scanned a Decepticon?

Just before he could adopt his new mode Frenzy, one of Soundwave's cassettes had struck. Clambering up his torso hacking his internal systems, the cassette had left him helpless in the red terran soil. Barricade had taken extreme pleasure then, tearing parts from his wrecked and battered chassis. The pain and torment had lasted until his remaining systems put him into stasis lock. He'd had no clue how long he'd been prisoner, but that was no longer his concern.

He had to find the Autobots. He wasn't sure how long the human unconscious in his interior was going to survive without medical attention. He had to find help and soon. With no long range scans and no access to his communications systems, he was a target. And that was something that was not allowed in his job description.

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Stalking out of a crowded hallway, Reggie Simmons swore viciously and made his way to the elevators. He could not believe she'd made such a rookie mistake. That was something he'd expected out of civilians, not Mikeala. It figured, no wonder she'd sent him the report rather turning it in by hand. It was gutsy, but then again so was she, part of the reason he hired her. The other was the undeniable fact that former criminals were hot or something about equal rights whichever was the most appropriate at the time. He slipped inside the elevator before the doors close and it descended further into the depths of the facility.

Three levels down and the head officer of Sector 7's field division stepped out into the hall leading to N.B.E-1's former containment hanger; known affectionately as the 9th level of hell. The hall was eerie silent without the hum of machinery and the voices of technicians. It had effectively been shut down since Megatron's escape and left abandoned. Its future use, along with the numerous testing labs, was uncertain.

None of the senior members knew the sort of etiquette to broach the subject to the Autobots and they for their part remained silent. So until further notice, the Iceman project was on hold, not to mention the fact their subject had been released on the unsuspecting populace. Shards of familial guilt lodged in his chest, he knew who was responsible and he knew who'd have to atone for those mistakes.

Reggie's internal monologue was cut short as a one of his subordinates came rushing from another doorway. Stepping sharply up to meet him, Simmons accepted the rushed salute and waved him to continue.

"Sir, we have a problem!"

Simmons fell instep with the young man as they passed the Proving Lab moving towards the Cube hanger. Focusing on the words he allowed the self-depreciating thoughts to sink into the background. Now was not the time.

"It's N.B.E Prime. -" The man began frantic in his movements and speech, "-he's suffered some sort of syncope, due to unidentified causes. He's been moved into the cube chamber as per N.B.E Ratchet's request."

"Any ideas what felled him?"

"Nothing yet sir."

"Well let's go see the patient shall we?"

Crossing through the darkened tunnel, the pair stepped into the hanger, not surprised to see the massive form of the newest Autobot arrival standing guard over a trio of human teens and the kid's melancholy Camaro not far behind. Clearing his throat the officer addressed his newest subordinate.

"Don't you have work to be doing?"

Mikaela jumped to her feet surprising her companions. Stumbling from his chair, Miles managed to not only splatter himself but the other teen with Mountain Dew. As they turned on each other angrily as Banes gave a small salute.

"No Sir, I'm off duty."

Looking her over once, he accepted the statement.

"Very well, you may continue. We'll talk about that report later."

She scowled but nodded at his words. Tormenting rookies, it was one of the more malicious aspects of the job. Turning again, Simmons made for the other side of the room, ordering the trailing agent to do something about the arguing teens. He hated having civilians along, things always tended to get messy.

Passing beneath N.B.E Ironhide, Simmons crossed in to the corner of the hanger absconded for use as an alien med-bay. It wasn't their base of course, but Hoover Dam was cleared for occasional Autobot occupancy, when away from Tyger Pax. Pale blue light issued forth from the temporarily erected perimeter, reflecting off the drab gray walls. Picking his way past unused equipment, Simmons made his way toward the unearthly light.

Seated before the still body of N.B.E Optimus Prime was N.B.E Ratchet. The chartreuse Hummer spared a glance at the intruder and snorted.

"I'm busy."

Simmons moved closer to the Autobot watching, as the large hands moved along the open body of his leader. Pouring from the open torso of the N.B.E, the emanation was like a miniature sun. warm and beautiful. It rose from the vibrant frame as nameless circuitry sparked occasionally flickering shadows along the walls. Standing within the glowing splendor the human felt something almost magical. He committed it to memory, that sense of power and life.

"Will he live?"

"Of course" growled the medic hands slowing as he finished.

Did humans believe all opened frames meant death? Scowling the older mech closed Optimus' chest plates shutting off the brilliant glow. Once again they were left to the hazy monotony of fluorescent lights. The brief respite, however was not to last. A sudden shout from Ironhide and both man and mech were on their feet moving for the door.

Ratchet being faster, seized the lagging operative and simply carried him across the threshold like a toy. Simmons with all his composure did not scream like a little girl, merely held tight to the dark fingers.. Within the main chamber the figure of Ironhide attempted to support the sagging frame of Chromia. Beside him Bumblebee attempted to keep the teens from interfering. More accurately he was attempting to restrain a frantic Trent from damaging Ironhide.

"What the Hell did you do to my Car?"

Once on his feet the Simmons moved to intercept the situation, but he never got the chance.

Just as Ratchet reached the invalid mech, excited shouts pervaded the air. All heads turned toward the library as the former Rand analysts burst through its doors. Maggie moving faster despite her eccentric heels reached them first and began her explanation. Unfamiliar with her level of techno-babble the humans stared..

"This is exactly why I should have stayed in Washington."

Fortunately for her sake she had a rather capable translator even if he did have a preoccupation with sugary foods. As he reached them Glen simply handed over the printed results of their search summing Maggie's words in an instant.

"We found him."

"Sam?" Mikaela questioned trying to look at the photo.

Bumblebee rumbled angrily answering her question.

"Barricade."

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Speeding across the sweltering landscape a familiar police cruiser found itself intercepted by several vehicles. Pulling to a stop on the darkened highway it kicked up dust and gravel before the line of back SUV's. Debating whether to attempt activating his holo-form for camouflage, the mech was briefly aware of a yellow car speeding towards him. The bright Camaro suddenly slammed on its brakes and turned, drifting across the paved road. Moments before it would have crashed into Prowl the car transformed, rising to its full height of sixteen feet.

The squad car rumbled, but fell silent as the Autobot scout pressed a cannon to his hood, vocal processors crackling as it spoke.

"Give him back."

Relived to the point of cutting his engines the tactician acknowledged his old friend with a rumble.

"Bumblebee, how you've grown."


	9. Amp Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As with life, not everything is going to go the way you want it to. Not everything is going to fall into a neat little line. Not everyone you set out to kill is just going to lay down and die. For the Autobots and their companions this lesson is just beginning. An AU with mature themes, oft ignored characters and a bevy of drama and cliffhangers.
> 
> Reposted from Fanfiction.net to gear up for the sequel. 'Flames'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. Hasbro does. All characters are 18 or older with the exception of Annabelle.
> 
> This has been beta'd but nobody's perfect. Comments and Critiques are welcomed and encouraged.
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> Here's chapter 9. Sorry for the wait. This was supposed to be a reunion chapter…it ended up being a drama chapter… It's still fun though.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> So here it goes. This is the re-edited version of Sparks. Thanks to gracesolo for all of the wonderful beta work, hand holding and laughter. You're my hero hon!

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Sparks 9: Amp Off

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Florescent lights flickered far above Sam; the near silent hum a pleasant change from earsplitting screams. He was sore all over but still, somehow able to move. He wasn't sure he'd be able to run if necessity called for it. That was assuming he still had the chance. Summoning his courage, the teen pushed himself up. Dulled pain exploded to life tingling along nerves as his desire for self-preservation screamed at him. Surprised at the intensity laid back, waiting for the pain to subside.

"Okay, I'm not going to do that again."

Looking around, he discovered himself sequestered on a large table. It was just like table that once bore Bumblebee, smaller than the one had Starscream had destroyed. The thought of the winged Decepticon sent a pleasant tingle down his spine. Surprised and shuddering with revulsion Sam tried to remember what had happened.

As fuzzy thoughts crossed his consciousness, he discovered that he wasn't alone. To his left lay a large mech. Though it was unknown to him it seemed familiar and that was reassuring. Unable to discern the sense of Déjà vu he looked to his right and found Prowl. The sight of which brought a happy smile to his lips. Despite the Autobot's resemblance to a certain Decepticon, he felt safe with him near. It was weird, but the teen had already learned the benefit of following his instincts.

Both bot were silent and still, each with wires attached to them. Scooting forward Sam too realized he was trapped. On further inspection he found and IV attached to his arm. Perturbed and confused he reached to pull that damn thing out, but found himself stopped by earnest blue optics.

Optics he hadn't seen in a long time. Optics set in a dark face of a larger-than-life alien-robot, an alien-robot that just happened to be seated at the end of the table, an alien-robot that was his best non-human friend.

"Bumblebee?"

"He's refused to leave your side since they brought you back."

"Miles?"

Just beyond Bumblebee, Sam could make out the figure of his best human friend, leaning over a computer. The enigmatic blond was a sight for sore eyes. Never had Sam been so glad to see his compatriot since pre-school. No matter what happened, he could always count on his eccentric companion.

"You look like crap."

Well he could expect him to be honest.

"Where are we?"

"Hoover Dam again. Tyger Pax isn't quite set up for non-bot medical emergencies. We're down on the 7th level. You weren't stable enough to be moved to the recovery rooms on the 4th."

Miles explained as he abandoned the flashing screen. He almost made it across the room before he paused to look at the mangled police car.

"Robo-Cop over here brought you in."

The functioning yellow mech chirped at the human, prompting a correction.

"Ok, Prowl brought you in."

"Is he alright?"

"I don't know I've had a heck of a time keeping an eye on you."

It was an understatement. He'd been frantic, as Bumblebee had carried Sam into the chamber. His heart had nearly stopped when he saw that fair skin covered in dried blood and mottled bruises. Just beyond the egress, Mikaela had prayed. She knelt down, clasped her hands and prayed. Confused but thoughtfully, Long Arm had moved to her side and reciprocated the gesture. Whether he meant to or not, the pick-up found himself the role model for dozens of tiny bots. Conducting themselves in such a manner they too knelt, the more spastic of their clan silenced by their den mother in the shape of a Mountain Dew machine.

Miles had been so scared that Sam was dead. He'd even clung to Trent for support. As expected the jock wasn't exactly Dr. Phil, but he'd been a shoulder to cry on. Miles had sobbed, loudly and unabashedly into the teen's letterman jacket and the only torment he suffered was the fear and horror of Sam's condition. Trent hadn't yelled or complained, he merely took it like a man unsure how to comfort anyone.

They'd stood like that for a while, basked in the silence and Miles' snuffling. Once she'd risen from the floor Mikaela had rubbed his back in soothing circles and urged Trent to do the same. She brought with her comforting words and the news of his friend. Sam wasn't dead, he just in shock. Relief flooded throughout Miles and his legs gave out, leaving Trent to hold him up. The jock did admirably and Miles almost thanked him.

That had been some odd hours and four Mountain Dews ago. It had probably been the longest night of Miles' entire life. And it was over. Sam was back among friends and he was going to stay that way. The teen moved closer, climbed up Bumblebee to look Sam on the eyes. Gripping Sam's face he turned it to the side and inspected the skin. He wanted to know what happened and he was going to get an answer, one way or another.

"What happened to you?"

Sam remained silent and looked from the Camaro to the human. Not all his memories had rushed back, leaving the last few hours a blank slate. What had happened to him? He knew now whatever it was; he didn't want to worry his friends.

Sam sighed and closed his eyes, "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Sam you came in here with more "bling" than you did when you left, we have to talk about it."

His inference was of course directed at the changes to the teen's body. Wired into his system, four neural ports were integrated into his flesh. The silver red metal was offset by the faint glow of alien circuitry woven within them. Obviously cauterized, the medic had refrained from bandaging them as he had the rest of Samuel's body. Looking at the older burn marks along his arms, Sam refused again.

"I really, really don't want to talk about it."

"Sam."

Miles suddenly found his impromptu interrogation thwarted by yet another tenant of their converted medical ward.

"God, you freaks are noisy. Some people are trying to sleep."

In the corner of the hanger, a little ways away from the unmoving Autobots Trent DeMarco was just waking up. Scowling at the reunited friends he resisted the urge to throw up.

"Well good morning to you too sleeping beauty." Lancaster shrugged tiredly and turned his attention back to Sam.

"What's he doing here?"

"See that Autobot over there? That's his "Car". The snippy teen made use of air quotes to illustrate his point. Watching him, Sam could just tell that he was coming down off a Dew-high. Bumblebee made another unintelligible noise and the teen glared.

"Her name," interrupted the football star, rising to his feet. "is Chromia."

"And she has a heck of a better personality than you."

The jibe was rude and ill timed, and they stared at each other in a battle of mental chicken. Watching them posture, Sam was ready to throttle both of them but was glad for the reprieve. Sitting down he pressed himself to the plates of his transformed car, his smile tinged with exhaustion. The fingers cradled him gently, and he sagged, putting everything but Bumblebee from his mind.

The argument going on around them was interrupted quickly as a third voice spoke.

"As much as I'm enjoying all the attention sugah, I'd prefer if you didn't fight."

DeMarco whipped about at the sound of the femme's sweet voice, an unusual expression on his face and concern in his tone.

"Chromia?"

Crossing from the ugly green sofa, the elder teen moved slowly towards precious Hummer. She looked fine outwardly, but then again who was he know alien physiology? She stretched slowly extending her hands to him, the bright blue optics scanning him as he came closer. Silently the young man gripped the much larger digits allowing the Autobot to lift him from his feet.

Raising his head, Sam watched as they touched the gestures between them as familiar as his own with Bumblebee.

Somewhere in between his mind slipped away. Almost at once golden paths seemed to glitter before his unfocused eyes. The lines covered everything glowing the most brightly over the humans and Autobots. It hit him in that instant that he'd seen it before, like silver webs only these were much stronger.

"Sam!"

Blinking the human snapped for his reverie and the light was gone leaving behind a hazy after image.

Miles slapped a cool hand to his forehead concerned even more with his "condition." Shaking his head sadly, he waved a hand before Witwicky's face.

"You aren't acting like yourself." He hissed softly his eyes boring into his friend's.

The way he said it, it was a statement not a question. Sam bit his lip waiting for the inevitable

.

"What happened to you?"

Scared almost trembling against Bee, he refused to answer. He turned Instead, focusing on the shapes of Chromia and Trent. The brightly colored femme held the young man close, face pressed to his chest, fingers curled about his body. His smile was a little stronger, this time and he looked up to his friend and guardian.

Without a sound Bumblebee reached for him, careful not to knock Miles from his perch. The mechanical digits encircled Sam, drawing him carefully forward, mindful of his wounds and IV. Eyes to optics they were lost in their own little world. The human's lip suddenly quivered and tears welled in his eyes. Worried the alien Camaro chirped brightly and Miles caught the hint.

"It's okay Sam."

Head down the teen avoided looking into anyone's' eyes wiping the leakage from his own.

"What did I miss?" he inquired curling his fists in his lap.

"A couple of things."

"Like?"

Mass panic in the streets. Oh, and Optimus Prime… uhh… fainting…" Miles concluded neatly.

Bumblebee honked at the youth, who twitched but changed the subject again.

"My car got jacked, right after you did incidentally."

"Man I'm sorry."

"Not as much as I was, oh and DeMarco panicking like a baby cuz his car's an alien." The blond obviously took great pleasure in that particular fact.

"Anything important?" Sam corrected his voice wavering as he spoke.

"Mikaela's working for Sector Seven."

"What?" The fury in Sam's tone surprised even Trent who stopped and stared.

Rethinking his faux pas Miles desperately tried to extract his foot from his mouth.

"Maybe she's just temping for them or something. I haven't seen her since you were brought in."

As he spoke however he only found he was digging himself deeper. Slapping a hand over his face he sighed. "I'm just making this worst aren't I?"

"Sam?"

A joyful shout drew their attention, and Mikeala rushed towards them.

"You're awake!"

Sam's surprise upon seeing pseudo-girlfriend was stripped the moment he laid eyes on her uniform. There in the top pocket of her blazer was a Sector Seven ID card. As she closed the distance, she noticed his expression and she stopped, confusion etched in her features.

Miles jumped down from the Camaro and whispered an apology as he made himself scarce.

"Sam?" she repeated softly.

At the sound, he gave her the most awful look.

"You're working with them?" he accused venomously, sliding from the table.

She refused to answer, the guilt clearly written across her face.

"How could you?" Sam demanded stepping forward.

Meeting him head on Mikeala refused to back down.

The Sector Seven they'd encountered wasn't the same one she was now working for.

"You can't hold everyone accountable for act made in haste."

"That's a hell of an understatement." He replied maliciously, the IV pulling as he moved.

""They hurt Bumblebee!"

At the mention of his name the mech chirped at the pair attempting to intercede. Without his voice however, he was having a heck of a time. No signal he encountered bore anything remotely encouraging or relevant to the situation. Holding up his hands he attempted to separate his friends. His intrusion was ignored and they started shouting.

"They didn't set out to, they were trying-" Mikaela began again.

"Did they tell you that? That doesn't make it ok!"

From across the room Trent interrupted. "Give her a break would you!"

"Stay out of this!" Sam snarled back.

Mikaela however rallied to his defense. "Sam! Leave him alone!"

To the surprise of all parties present Bumblebee finally found something he could work with.

" _Why can't we be friends, why can't we be friends?"_

The room fell quiet as all eyes turned to him. Unfortunately that silence was short-lived.

"Shut up Bumblebee!"

Suitably chastised the sixteen-foot robot whined sadly. Chromia snapped to his defense and argument began anew. The teens were practically screaming at each other in the large hanger. Angry and hurt, tempers flared nearly followed by fists, until a long silent mech finally spoke.

"Enough. Look at yourselves. If this is how your species treats itself, I'm surprised Optimus Prime holds you in such high regard." Prowl rose from the berth, his tone captivating and firm.

Rising to his full height he looked them over, before shaking his head in disappointment

"Bumblebee, Chromia see to your charges. I hope for your sakes we do not have another incident like this. Do I make myself clear?"

Without a word every one of them nodded, shamed by their behavior. He was absolutely right.

Lifting Sam from the floor, the somber Camaro replaced him on the table he'd occupied before. Retreating a safe distance, Mikaela glanced at them. Sheepish and embarrassed Sam looked away as his fingers played across the newly acquired port the back of his neck. Shock and pain registered first as energy rippled through his completed circuit. Power rippled through his hand cycling throughout his neural center and back along his appendages. His locked memories rippled back along his mind, the most painful and recent forcing a scream that died on his lips.

The boy's guardian seized him as Prowl summoned Ratchet. The uninjured humans found themselves carried from the room as Chromia fled before the CMO's wrath. Clutching the finger that held her Mikaela could only stare with dawning horror as the severity of the situation struck her. DeMarco on the only hand was thinking about something else.

"Now where the hell is Lancaster"

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Taking the elevator and several back stairwells Miles moved up to the first floor. Stalking past the vehicle bay he scowled. Rows of nondescript black vehicles stretched across the lot, each equipped with weapons and emergency gear. It was no wonder why it wasn't on the visitor tour. Oddly funny, but unimportant and he walked faster; he'd had enough of cars anyway. Slipping out to the receptionist station he prepared to plead his case.

It took some serious lying, cajoling and near pleading. The base was still on high alert after the whole robot thing, but Miles Lancaster managed to convince the agents on duty to let him slip out for a few hours.

Security risk, ha!

He couldn't possibly figure out how having the alien-robotic-cars in the basement would promote security, but it wasn't his problem. He needed a break. He was getting away from stupid teens and their stupid aliens. He couldn't go home, but he didn't have to stick around either.

Taking one of the many tour buses, he headed for the nearest hint of civilization. It turned out to be the town Sparks. He'd passed it a few times during his commute to the Dam after the alien's had deemed his use as a hostage. It wasn't a bad little city. If it could be called a city, the first time he'd been "escorted" to the base, he hadn't even realized it was inhabited. The town was small; maybe a few houses and some official type buildings. No fast food places of any type. Besides that, it was ok; slinking off the bus he moved to explore the crumpled schedule in his back pocket.

Poking his head in the tiny convenience store on the corner, he cheered. In the back nestled among the homogenized milk and the eggs was his drug of choice. Grabbing a six pack, he moved to the counter. Just beyond it a bored teenager girl sat perched on a stool, lazily reading a gossip rag. Dropping the pack of carbonated soda on the counter he earned her vicious glare. She had more dye in her hair than Dame Edna and was chewing ravenously on a stick of gum. Ignoring her pointed stare, he pointed to one of the racks behind her.

"Can I get two of those?" He asked in his best imitation of his father.

"I.D?" she demanded popping a bubble.

He wasn't legal, but he tried anyway.

"Sure I can't have 'em?"

"No chance perv." She retorted tapping her nails against the counter.

"I'm not a pervert, I'm an artist." He insisted drawling the syllables.

"Sorry kid, you need I.D."

"Want me to tell your boss you're harassing customers?"

"Listen-"

"You give me the goods, I give you a bi-g tip and you never see me again."

Which wasn't an understatement, this was probably the last time he'd be able manage something so reckless. He grinned hopefully; she looked him up and down popping her gum.

"Are you really an artist?"

Three messy napkins and an empty ink pen later, he'd finally managed to gain his dubious prize.

Bidding her farewell, he gathered his bags and stepped out the door. Striding along the sidewalk with a six pack of Mountain Dew and a paper bag he wondered aloud.

"If that was so easy, should I have tried my luck with beer?"

As he made for the bus stop he saw it; a bright red sports car parked in the lot just across the street. It was sleek, sexy and incredibly conspicuous. Against his better judgment he crossed the road and moved in for a closer look. The make was unfamiliar, but then again he wasn't a car buff like Mikaela or Sam. Pushing the thought away he circled the red beauty, almost touching it.

Staring at the obviously expensive car he knew something was off. It had nothing inside, no roadmaps, no drinks or even CD's. It was surprisingly clean for being on the absolute edge of civilization. The fact it was in the middle of the desert. All the facts added and he came to the inevitable conclusion.

'It was a Decepticon.'

"Slag." he sighed sinking onto the brilliant hood, the metal warm under his butt

Reaching in to his pocket to call for some sort of aid, Miles realized he didn't have his phone. He still had Trent's! Groaning he sat his bag and the bottles on the hood of the possible Decepticon.

No one had come out and yelled at him yet. His theory was looking more and more likely. Five minutes passed and he shoved a plastic bottle in his bag. Nothing. Sitting there in the hot sun he arrived at two separate conclusions. First it had to be Decepticon. His second conclusion however was more important that the first.

'I'm sitting on a Decepticon.'

"I'm doomed,"

He was trapped. He couldn't run; he'd be killed on the spot. He didn't think the alien robot car was going to take kindly to being sat on. Not that he could do much against a Decepticon anyway. He couldn't call for help; he'd be killed once they realized who he was contacting. Closing the phone he reached for another Dew. After all he had nothing but time.

The downside about having time to waste was having nothing to waste it on. Flipping through the magazine he'd purchased for the third time Miles groaned. Naked chicks with fake boobs were still naked chicks with fake boobs and he wasn't really interested. The articles inside the rag were just as vapid as the rest of its inhabitants. Tossing the booklet on to the hood of his unidentified Decepticon Miles leaned back to watch the clouds. As expected, the scarlet metal was incredibly hot, he shifted uncomfortably before opening the second bottle.

As he twisted off the bottle cap, Lancaster came to yet another tragic conclusion. Just in front of him was another car. He hadn't even heard it. Even more suspicious it was exactly the same as the one he was seated on, except for the paintjob. It was a brilliant sunshine yellow. He grimaced and took a drink. Looking over the new vehicle the teen's mood sunk even lower. He never really cared for the color yellow. That was it; the cars were out to get him. He was trapped and now he was outnumbered. The carbon copy car was parked backwards, almost hood to hood with his Decepticon in the form of chair. Blinking, Miles almost swore it moved closer.

He had to do something, anything. There was no way in hell he was going to be able to out run it, so he was going to have to out think it. Wasting no time the blond simply propped his dusty sneakers against its bright shiny hood. If he wasn't going anywhere then neither were they. Balancing himself against their hoods, he smirked. If the pair of Decepticon's were going to kill him he'd at least give them a reason to. He wasn't about to flee in terror, not now, not ever.

All at once the phone in his pocket chirped, surprising him thoroughly. Fishing it out of his pocket he stared it dumbly. It rang again and he quickly answered.

"Miles!"

"Mikaela?"

"You are in serious hot water." She insisted over the line.

"I don't see how it could get any worse."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded in return

"I'm kinda in a situation right now."

"Situation?" She sounded incredulous and a bit angry. "Why didn't you just call?"

"I'm in sensitive company, a rock and a hard place if you will."

"Miles, you've compromised security and now you're speaking riddles. Reggie is gonna be on my ass if you don't start making some sense."

Rolling his eyes the blond grit his teeth and tried again.

"I'm between a rock and a hot car if you catch my drift."

It was potentially risky, but he was already in trouble. Fortunately the Mikaela caught his hint.

"Stay put, we'll get there as quick as we can" She promised

"I will." He acknowledged, quite relieved.

"Just one question though?"

"Shoot."

"Why didn't you just send a text?"

Reaching for the still cool caffeinated beverage, the teen didn't bother to answer.

090909090909090909

Junior agent Mikaela Banes of the new and improved Sector Seven hung up on the obnoxious teen and rolled her eyes. Decepticons had cornered Miles just after Sam had escaped from them. It was like something out of a bad movie. A really bad movie, the kind where someone always died protecting someone they loved. She grimaced at the thought. There was no way she was going to a funeral. Tucking her cell back into her pocket she approached the larger than life machines that she'd become so familiar with.

"Ironhide?"

Slowly the large mech turned and crouched, optics as large as her head focusing on her.

"We've got a problem."

The slight tilt of his head was almost human as he prodded her for more information.

"Miles left the Dam, went off to who knows where and is now cornered by a pair of vehicles he assumes are Decepticons."

"A pair?"

"Of Decepticons" She repeated firmly.

The mech snorted, his smokestacks expelling hot air. It sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

"Ironhide?"

"I can track your friend through the closest cellular base site.

Slipping into his alternate mode the Autobot addressed her again.

"Let's go"

The suited young woman moved forward only to be stopped by another mech. His once broken window had been replaced, his frame had been repaired, white paint shone weakly under the fluorescent lighting.

"Long Arm?"

He rolled closer nudging her softly.

"Allow me to accompany you."

Confusion stretched across her features and she stared at him unsure how to respond.

It wasn't like she saw giant robot-cars every day. Ok, so maybe she did, but this was certainly a change. Usually she was the one tagging along. The mech, as far as she knew was a nice sort of robot. He was polite, thoughtful and he'd saved her twice. What was there to think about?

Ironhide honked loudly reminding her of the situation. In reply Mikaela waved him off, before climbing back into the driver's side of smaller pickup. The door closed and the earth-born Cybertronian waited until she was buckled before following the weapon's specialist.

It was better to be an active participant rather than just an observer. She hated not being in control. That was part of the reason she'd joined Sector Seven in the first place. Not that her feelings had mattered. God, Sam was such an idiot! Sliding her hands to the steering wheel, she pushed away the lingering irritation.

They were totally breaking up.


	10. Logic Bomb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. Hasbro does. All characters are 18 or older with the exception of Annabelle.  
> This has been beta'd but nobody's perfect. Comments and Critiques are welcomed and encouraged.  
> Thanks!
> 
>  
> 
> Ok this chapter has taken the longest, but I'm glad it's done. Much love to dragoona  
> for beta'ing this in such a short amount of time..(I owe you cookies!!) As always thanks for reading.
> 
> I promise explanations.  
> So here it goes. This is the re-edited version of Sparks. Thanks to gracesolo for all of the wonderful beta work, hand holding and laughter. You're my hero hon!
> 
>  
> 
> 12-17-16  
> Oh man. I'll admit it. I lost my muse. I stopped writing, but this too has passed. I've moved into a new house, a new job and a new way of writing. I'll finish putting up and editing this fic and who knows, I may get to the next arc. I offer apologies and ask forgiveness, but hey, it's been more than a year. If you're no longer interested, thanks for sticking around and I wish you the best. If you're gonna hang around a bit longer, stay tuned for a bumpy ride.

1010101010

10: Logic  Bomb

1010101010

It was hot and Miles was bored.

He was pretty sure he’d gotten sunburn.

Still the suspected Decepticons had yet to move, or threaten him within an inch of his life. Looking at their matching hoods, he tapped a foot against the yellow car’s grill.

Ok…

So maybe he’d overreacted.

They probably weren’t even alien. But then again, he’d been sitting there for an hour and no one had said anything. Bouncing an empty plastic bottle off the shining car, he figured the best thing to do would be to stay put. Mikaela was on her way and he was not about to suffer another desert tour bus, not if he could help it.

  
Sliding further up the hood, the blond attempted to work the cramp out of his leg.

Sitting up, he winced moving from his former position. While basking in the uncomfortable agony, he realized just why he’d been sitting there in the first place. Kicking out his legs, Miles slammed his sneakers hard on the car before

The sudden pain wasn’t nearly enough to distract him from the horrible realization. He’d seen it. The supposedly non-Decepticon’s headlights had flashed. Examining the vehicle a little more thoroughly, he discovered that it was closer. He’d moved back and the car had come closer.

It’s previously effective cover had been blown.

Blown to itty-bitty bits.

“I got you.” He insisted, a wry grin crossing his features. In reply however, both engines rumbled noisily reminding him, he was still in trouble.

Reality hit Miles with the impact of an explosion.

They really were Decepticons. Clutching is bag of supplies Miles sobered pretty quickly, his smile fading as panic began to set in.

Without help, he was screwed.

“Slag.”

1010101010

 Elbow deep in soapy water, Judy Witwicky was startled out of her meditation by a loud ring. Snatching the dishtowel, the short woman wrapped it about the plate and reached for the phone. Putting the receiver to her ear, she turned back to the task at hand.  On the other end of the phone a strange, strange man began speaking. Officially, as was his duty, or so he claimed- the call was to inform her of the fact that, her son Samuel James Witwicky had gone missing.

Despite the fact the news struck her to the very core fiber of her being, the woman had more than enough sense to put the dish into the dish rack before she dropped it

Sidestepping Mojo, Judy firmly yet politely informed the caller that in no uncertain terms that if he didn’t explain to her what the hell was going on; she was going to find him and kick his ass. She was, after all, a tax-paying citizen with caller ID.

Ignoring the positively blatant threat her, as of yet, unidentified caller went on to inform her no more than 48 hours had passed before her son Samuel James Witwicky had been returned to their care. He was receiving the best treatment at their facility and would continue to do so until his condition stabilized.  He confirmed that they would keep her updated on his status and finished by wishing her a good day.

Beyond incensed, Judy Witwicky automatically dialed the number of her husband at work. After a moment the love of her life answered with a smile in his voice, soothing her flared temper just a bit. She didn’t waste any time attempting to explain, but rather informed him of her plan for the afternoon.

“Ronald, honey. I’m going to check up on Sam. Dinner is in the oven. Love you too.”

Blowing him a kiss over the line, she hung up and grabbed for her purse. The keys were on the table as she passed a final check over the house. With the lights off and all doors locked, she marched to the garage.

She was going to find her son and check on Sammy’s condition for herself. And then she was going to give that man a piece of her mind. Being an idiot didn’t give him the right to be so rude.

Civil servant, her ass.

1010101010

Cleared for active duty, for the time being; Elita One’s first lieutenant cruised along the highway, charge in tow. While her directions seemed completely random, she was in fact surveying the surrounding area for Decepticons.

Ever since Prowl’s return and the escape of Miles Lancaster, the Hoover Dam facility had been on high alert. It had been a fight to get out in the first place, but Optimus was well suited to the task of mediator as his former position entailed.

She missed her planet, but had to admit she was becoming attached to the tiny ball of soil, air, and water. It was so full of life, and passion.

“God, I’m bored.”

At Trent’s outburst she laughed, bouncing on her shocks. He was such a child, even so almost a man by the standard of his people. Theirs was a race so complex and new, yet familiar. Slowing to a halt, the femme turned her scans inward, analyzing the human reclining in her interior.

“And what do you suppose I do about that, darlin’?”

Shifting in driver’s seat, the blond tipped up his hat, blue eyes scrutinizing the sunny barren landscape.

“I don’t know…You’re supposed to be the one watching me, right?”

Ever since his acquaintance with the rest of her kind, the football player had assumed their reason for being on earth was to protect the individuals they deemed worthy. Though he was wrong, Chromia didn’t have the heart to correct him. It made easier to coerce him into following her directions.

In truth, she’d come to the planet for another reason, but her carelessness had resulted in her having to take the form of his precious car  Not that he’d ever noticed. She wasn’t going to tell him, either. How could she? Trent would never react well to learning his first baby was at the bottom of the lake, rusting on its mangled little 22’s.

He was happy enough talking to her and she was thrilled she could finally talk back. It was a serious step in the way of human-Cybertronian relations and he was ok with it, as long as he didn’t have join the “little freak club.” Despite his evident hostility, he was more a part of them than he realized. She rumbled again before agreeing with his sentiment.

A message from the Weapon’s Specialist reached her processors and she smothered a bark of laughter.

“Let’s head back, Hon…I got a feeling things are just about to get more interesting. “

He never got to ask as she whipped around in a neat U-turn and sped off back down the road, blowing past the speed limit signs at twice their imposed restrictions.

1010101010

Prior to Prowl’s arrival to the Hoover Dam, Optimus Prime had been stricken by an unknown ailment. By the time he was up and functioning, two of his Autobots were down and Samuel had been returned. Cheered by the development, Prime was content to wait until they were well. To his surprise, the moment his third in command was on his feet, the black and white mech had sought him out.

Saluting to his superior, Prowl, security officer and second lieutenant of the Autobots began his report. He first spoke of Cybertron and it’s less than desirable condition. He grimaced as he told of the wrecked cities and loss of stable domes.

“Nearly fifty-five percent of Iacon is destroyed. The shelters are being discovered faster than the refugees can be moved.”

More and more of their planet was falling to the onslaught of Decepticon attacks. With the lack of a unified leader, Decepticon methods became more fierce and unpredictable. If things continued as they were, it would not be much longer before the planet fell to such occupation, something no Autobot wanted. This report however, was not without a silver lining.

“Ultra Magnus is gathering the able bodied mechs together, as I left they were cobbling together an assault team to reclaim the capital building. The remaining younglings have been moved from Cybertron under the care of Elita One. Among them is your descendant.”

Optimus reeled as the news filtered through his audials, his spark pulsing. Despite the severity of the situation, he found himself almost relieved. Air cycled through his vents and he sagged against the wall. If the security officer was surprised, he didn’t show it. Prowl, in his own right was glad to be again with his own kind.

“And the Decepticons?”

The Saleen bristled at the query, but quickly relayed the events of his arrival to Earth, as well as his discovery and subsequent capture by the Decepticons. He left out their torment and attempts to rip the vital information he carried from his processors.

Struggling against Blackout and his drone, he’d nearly failed, but there’d been one thing that kept him going. One thing he would go through all of it again just to see.  Finishing his report, he bore Prime’s congratulations, thanks and orders until he could speak again.

“Sir, if I may inquire. Where is your Lieutenant?”

The sudden look in Optimus’ eyes, and the hand clapped to his shoulder were enough to stall his processors, but it was the words that came after that stilled his spark.

“I’m sorry, old friend.”

1010101010

As if summoned by Miles’s hysterical babbling and half-crazed prayers, a loud horn cut through the small town of Sparks. All eyes and ears turned to the sound, before passing it off as another stupid tourist. Looking up the teen was pleased to see the impressive truck form of ‘Mr. T’ rolling down the street.

For a moment Miles swore he saw someone sitting in the driver’s seat, but chalked it up to heat stroke and waved exuberantly. The black mech was followed by a smaller vehicle that was just as alien and just as welcome, his passenger even more so. To be totally truthful, Miles still wasn’t all that comfortable with the species, except for Ratchet.

He reminded him of his family physician, which was still weird.

The Topkick pulled up beside him, its engine rumbling. Mikaela climbed from the tow truck that followed, a smile crossing her face as she spotted their wayward companion.

 Hey.” he waved sheepishly the fear evident in his features.

Grinning even more she moved to his side, running her hand over the red  assumed Decepticon he was currently sitting on.

“Hey yourself. We’ve been looking for you.”

“I’ve been here.”

“You shouldn’t have left.” She replied sarcastically.

Rolling his eyes the teen flopped against the car burning his arms in the process.

“Well I did and I’m sorry.” Turning his patented puppy dog eyes on the former jock concubine, he tried to be appropriately remorseful.

Her lips curled in response and she covered them with a hand. She was amused. He was about to die a horrible or at least a fiery death and she thought it was funny. 

“I'm so very very sorry so can you help me…please?”  Indicating the pair of cars he cringed. His life was still very much in danger.

To his irritation and further confusion, the hot girl part of their team broke down laughing. As she did, the larger of the trucks rumbled at a lower pitch which sounded suspiciously like laughter too.

Looking back and forth between them, Miles was at a loss. “What’s going on?”

“Congratulations” Ironhide replied, smoke rising from his stacks. “You’ve discovered something potentially more dangerous than Decepticons.”

“I have? What?”

“Twins.”

“Twins?” he repeated dumbly.

To his horror, the yellow vehicle popped its hood and disrupted his balance, throwing him into the dirt. Landing hard on his butt, Miles could only stare at its flickering lights.

“Sunstreaker” grumbled Ironhide chastising the Autobot.

The car only snapped his scuffed hood shut in reply.  The human male glared and considered kicking it in the tire. Mikaela, on the other hand, cooed over the red car admiring the form.

“A pair of Lamborghinis. I didn’t know you guys could have twins.”

The preening vehicle rumbled appreciatively, “Rarely do.”

“Thank Primus,” the weapons specialist replied starting his engine. “Let’s move out.”

Giving the yet unidentified mech a soft pat, Mikaela circled Long Arm to return to his cab.

Pushing himself up from the dirt, Miles retrieved his effects and turned to follow her grumbling as he dusted off his pants. His progress was impeded by the open door of his former footrest.   

“Get in”

“What? No-“

The Autobot…Sunstreaker rolled back catching his much smaller frame against the open door.

“Get. In.”

Unable to protest, Miles stumbled into the passenger seat and reached for the seatbelt.

He never had the chance to utilize it before the door slammed shut and the Autobot began to move. Cutting his wheels, the Lamborghini whipped about, following the other Bots, cheerfully ignoring the screams of his passenger.

 

1010101010

Another pulse and Sam shook like a leaf.

Gritting his teeth, he gave Bumblebee a wave. The bright yellow scout had yet to leave his side; he’d even risked bodily harm from Ratchet to stay with the boy. With those blue optics staring at him, Sam could almost ignore the fact his foot was falling asleep. In reply, the motionless, Autobot switched radio stations and turned the volume up.

Ratchet snorted, but resumed his work, scans and diagnostics waited for no man.

 _“Your scent on my t-shirt_  
_It never seems to fade_  
_An empty seat now_  
_Next to me but_  
_Memories fill the space_  
_Every moment you're not here_  
Reminds me how much I need you ”

From his prone position on the cold table, Sam gave Bee what he hoped was a reassuring smile. It wasn’t very easy due to the fact he was lying on his chest, with arms turned to expose his wrists. Shivering slightly, he desperately tried not to squirm. The tune rising from Bee wasn’t one he knew, but it was nice. Better than the silence, it was definitely working in at distracting him from the paraphernalia invading his body.  

  
_“Cause it always feels like Sunday_  
_When I drive you home_  
_Maybe, we'll be fine by Monday_  
_But tonight I'm alone_  
_Baby, when I can't be with you_  
_I still want you close_  
_'Cause it always feels like Sunday_  
_When you go”_

Long black cables stretched from the alien medic across the table to the young man they were to be plugged into. There were four in total, one for each port in his body. One in his back, one for each wrist and the last had been implanted into his spine at the base of his neck. The first three went in quickly and easily, while the fourth had presented problems.

That had been the proverbial camel’s straw….or something like that.

Hours ago when Sam had touched that port in his neck, he’d brought online something he had not been prepared to handle.

Thankfully, Ratchet had arrived quickly and sedated him moments after he’d started screaming. It had been by his own skill and the will of Primus that Sam hadn’t fried his newly acquired systems. He’d fought the medic at first, but the mech was four times his size. Once the connection had been disrupted, however, he‘d settled down.

Unwilling to let something of that nature occur again, the medic had simply informed Samuel that he’d be taking a closer look at the sockets fused into his flesh. The teen hadn’t taken it very well, but he’d relented allowing the Autobot to check him over.

Sam was still shivering. His neck still throbbed painfully, but that was to be expected; he’d been implanted with alien technology not twenty-four hours ago. The whole concept of the hardware in his body was going to take some adjusting to, but what other choice did he have?

It wasn’t as if the medic could remove them; the Decepticons had made sure of that.

The worst part, or the really weird part, about it was the fact he could feel the energy moving through his system. His synaptic something or other. He really hadn’t paid attention when Ratchet had explained it; he’d been focused on the tingling along his limbs.

They had done something to him, the Decepticons. He just couldn’t remember what. The memory was still pretty fuzzy and he was just so tired. Along with the tingling, Sam could feel the wash of Ratchet’s scans and the mech’s influence on his synapses. His hand twitched suddenly earning an exasperated frown.

Well aware of the teen’s expression, the CMO ignored it. He had other things to worry about. Samuel, for one, was a wreck. His body was weak with healing wounds and exhaustion. It was a miracle that he was still functioning, after everything that had been done to him. Something the chartreuse Autobot suspected was very much by the will of Primus. After all, he was now the biological embodiment of the All Spark.

There was no way to deny the potential energy that now resided in Sam’s cellular makeup. The radiation of the All Spark was now as much a part of his biology as the ports embedded into his skin. With those wired into his systems, Ratchet could read him like a book. A direct connection was immensely superior to basic scans, but what the Bot found chilled him to the spark.

Megatron intended to tear lives from the Well of the Sparks; he was going to breathe life into new Decepticons using All Spark, whether Sam was willing or not. The loss of its familiar form had not been a deterrent. As long as they could use it to do as they wished, its form was meaningless. The metal sockets imbedded into Sam’s flesh had solved the minor problem of his humanity. The Decepticons bore no regard for any life they ruined.

And ruin it they had. The young male was now a biological conduit to the power of the All Spark itself. Just underneath the tattooed skin, the concentrated power of Cybertron’s relic lay dormant. The newly formatted network within Sam pervaded every cell of his being. Billions of nanites, Cybertronian in origion, flowed through him as naturally as his own biological system. It was a wonder they weren’t attempting to convert him.

Samuel had, as far as the medic could tell, triggered the nanites by touching the socket in his throat. For all their effort, the Decepticons had not taken precautions to keep him safe. Ratchet was not surprised.

As a scientist, Starscream hadn’t been known for taking care of his experiments. The wounds the teen had arrived with and their violent appearance indicated he’d been conscious when they’d been inflicted. His minor injuries were healing nicely, but it was the lack of internal trauma that worried Ratchet.

From Prowl’s pre-treatment assessment, to Sam’s current status, the severity of his injures had decreased. To be blunt the worst of the damage had healed rapidly. It had healed at a rate that was comparable to a mech in a recharge cycle. While encouraging, it only underscored the fact that Samuel would never again have a human normal life.

Restricting their connection, Ratchet compiled his observations and recommendations into an encrypted file and sent them to Optimus. Their commander deserved to know what had been done and what those changes meant for the boy. As his guardians, they were just as responsible for what had happened to him. Snorting, the mech turned back to the shivering human on the table below him.

He could reflect on his failures later.

Scanning the organic network one more time, the medic began the rudimentary processes required to establish a firewall. There was indeed something already in place, but it wouldn’t do for the boy to be running Seeker protocols.

Sam gasped, as the barrier surged to life in his nerves, tingling all way down to his bare toes. As the shock died down, Bumblebee hummed and pressed a finger to Sam’s face. The CMO made an irritated series of clicks, but the scout ignored him. His need to comfort was reassuring, but it forced Ratchet to recalibrate his scans for a third time as he grumbled.

“The next time, you’re waiting outside even if I have to offline you myself.”

At the threat Bumblebee visibly wilted, his door wings drooping, as his fingers curled protectively around his charge; avoiding the connected cabling. From that single touch between them, Ratchet observed a spike in the boys system and realized things were only going to get more difficult.

1010101010

In the other room, far from the general cacophony of the Dam, Prowl moved carefully. Rundown and discarded equipment had been pushed against the walls, clearing a space for something infinitely more important. To his faint surprise, the security officer discovered that the body had been covered in a large tarp. The silver-black tint reminded him of his war-torn home world.

Shoving away his fear and attempts at rationalization, he whipped the fiber-based plastic from the table, revealing the last mech he’d ever wanted to see like this. Jazz was silent and still for once in his exuberant existence. His hands were clasped over his favored shield. Looking at him his fallen love, Prowl stepped forward, as sorrow twisting his features.

It was one thing to see a loved one fall in battle, but he hadn’t even been at Jazz’s side.

Remorse and pain flickered along the faint remains of their bond, his spark reaching, for what it had yet to realize was already lost.

Panic gripped him as his hand reached for the body, seemingly, of its own accord. His fingers hovered, just above Jazz’s own as his optics caught sight of the cracked visor. Seeing him there, it was almost as if the silver mech was only in recharge. Unable to face it, Prowl turned away, head bowed as he shied from the truth.

Soon or later he’d have to face it.

He'd have to face Jazz.

Face the fact that his spark-mate was no longer with him.

He just wasn’t ready, not yet.

Not now.

 

1010101010

 

Miles finally stopped screaming, after the appropriately dubbed Lucifer’s Lamborghini suddenly braked and spun off the nicely paved road, kicking up dust and gravel as it released him from its interior. Tumbling across the sand, the teen rolled to a stop with the paper bag crumpled to his chest; bottles of Mountain Dew scattered about him.

“Sunstreaker.” boomed the voice of the large truck known better as the Weapon’s Specialist of the Autobots.

The yellow vehicle transformed and stretched followed by its twin, both of whom were used to such warnings. Reaching down, he closed his fingers over the downed teen looming closer to look into his sandy countenance.  

“Just repaying him for scuffing my hood.”  Came the reply of the impossibly immature bot.

As ordered by  Ironhide’s implied tone, the mech stood down optics flickering at the teen.

Miles spat on him in reply and squirmed away. He even went so far as to kick dirt at him.

He couldn’t hurt him, not with the others around. Long Arm seemed intrigued as Mikaela managed to look vaguely horrified and amused at the same time.

“Why you-“The Autobot snarled before  slipping into his native tongue to curse the fleshy creature beneath him.

A whirr of Ironhide's weapons cut him off and the mech backed down again, fingers flexing menacingly.

 

“Fuck. You.” Miles replied and gathered his effects before stomping back towards the base, amidst the laughter at the shamed mech.

 

10101010

 

At the same time within the confines of the second floor, or rather the second basement, Judy Witwicky was giving the riot act to Tom Banachek, who as of that moment hadn’t known her son was still in custody.

As the official head Sector Seven's Advanced Research Division and by proxy most of the agency’s current projects, Banachek had briefly heard about the boy’s kidnapping and subsequent rescue. He’d assumed, incorrectly that the teen had been hospitalized and his family had been notified.   

His subordinate, Simmons had claimed the matter taken care of, and he knew exactly who to blame for it. Suppressing a sigh, he made a note to have a long conversation with his field agents about their ideas of protocol.

Attempting to both soothe and explain the matter to the shorter, but incredibly fiery woman, Tom called for a junior agent. He still, of course, had work to do; possibly firing an obnoxious field agent, in particular. But he would be pleased to have her escorted to someone who could help.  

Judy wasn’t soothed by the development, but finally agreed to put the paperweight back the desk without bloodshed. As the pair exited his office they ran into a full-blown reprimand of a junior officer by the field agent he’d felt the urge to fire.

The man paused at his superior’s appearance, but smiled warmly at the woman beside him. She didn’t return the gesture, but then again he didn’t expect her to.

Tom, however, was in no mood to play around. “Simmons, did you call Mrs. Witwicky?”

“I did, she needed to know about her boy.”

“Is there a reason her son was detained and not sent to a hospital?”

The Inquisition continued.  

“Actually there is, if you’d come with me?”

Reggie turned down the hall and marched off without waiting.

Glowering after him, Tom made al note to give him hell when things calmed down. “I’ll leave it to you then." 

 "Mrs. Witwicky" he acknowledfed, inclining his head before escaping back to the safety of his office.

Taking the woman’s arm, Reggie escorted her to the elevator as he began explaining. As the door closed, he paused to introduce her to his junior officer Mikaela.

As if sharing a joke, both women smiled at him.

“Oh, we’ve met.”

Resisting the urge to smile he began again, citing the latest speech of a particular N.B.E.

 

1010101010

 

Once again in the 7th floor or basement of the secret facility of Hoover Dam, Miles stomped off towards the corner of the hanger he’d left not so long ago. The converted infirmary was devoid of humans save for Sam, who Miles wasn’t sure counted as human anymore.

The teen was lying on his side, a drab gray blanket draped over his shoulders as he slept. To the left of his makeshift bed sat Bumblebee, the bright optics flickering as he waved to the teen.

Moving closer towards Sam, the blond smiled sadly. He’d known the goof since they were kids. When he’d first moved to Tranquillity and didn’t know anyone, he knew he’d hate it. After he met his next-door neighbor, Sam, however he found he was right. It took a week of water balloons, mud puddles, and the combined force of their mothers to convince them both otherwise.

Samuel J. Witwicky from that point on had officially been Miles C Lancaster’s best friend. At least, he would be until he moved again. A new bike ride, two blocks down and two blocks over and they officially became blood brothers. His mom had been horrified when they had wandered into the house covered in blood and dirt. The subsequent trip to the hospital for tetanus shots would not be the last one they took together.

“So, you’re back”

Looking up to the Doc-Bot, Lancaster nearly dropped his Mountain Dew. The twenty-foot mech was standing a little ways away from the pair; an oversized saw extended from his arm.

“Uh, yeah.”

The Autobot snorted and moved closer, seizing the yellow mech keeping vigil. Bumblebee seemed to protest, but the medic didn’t give him a choice. The room shook as the bright alien Camaro dropped to the floor. Wobbling on his feet, Miles scrambled up on to the table upon which his unconscious friend currently resided. Making himself comfortable he watched as Ratchet thumped the scout in the head with a wrench as he began to reach for the mech’s throat.

The smaller mech only whined and chirruped in protest.

Feeling guilty the human turned away, sliding his fingers towards Sam’s hand.

“Don’t.” the CMO ordered above the noise of a spinning saw.

“Do not engage in physical contact until his internal systems have stabilized.”

Crossing his arms the teen rolled his eyes.  “What am I going to do take him dancing?”

Hardly impressed Ratchet offered another solution.  “If you must put you hands on something come here and be useful.”

Reaching for another tool, the medic indicated the chassis of the prone mech.  

Sparing a glance at the unmoved Sam, Miles moved to do as he was told. From the look in Bumblebee’s optics, he figured, this would be a good way to make peace as any.

 

1010101010

The massive figure of Optimus Prime was pleasantly surprised by appearance of Samuel Witwicky’s mother, Reggie Simmons, and Mikaela Banes in his makeshift office on Sunday afternoon.

The air of uneasiness about them, however, was just enough for him to greet them as a Commander rather than a friend.

“Mrs. Witwicky…It’s good to see you. Agent Simmons, Agent Banes…”

“Prime.” Simmons replied with a flippant salute, as Mikeala waved. Judy only frowned.

Raising from his alternate mode, the mech looked down at them. “I’ll assume this isn’t a social call, what seems to be the problem?”

Staring up at him, Sam’s mother stepped forward hands on her hips.

“I want to know why my son is still here instead of home where he belongs.”

Cycling air through his vents, the Autobot knelt to look at the trio; his optics glowing in the shadows cast over his face. Slowly, he examined each one of them, a bit closer than they would have liked in Reginald’s case, but he then focused on Mrs. Witwicky.

“Has no one told her?”

A fair bit miffed at being talked over, Judy moved closer, tapping him firmly in the face mask.

“Told me what?”

The question and the confusion caused by it were not to be answered immediately, as Prime rose to his full height and beckoned them to follow. Used to that sort of treatment, Simmons and Mikaela did as suggested, bringing the irritated woman behind them. Crossing the room, they entered the medic bay and were greeted by the sound of an exuberant Miles.

The teen was standing in Bumblebee’s hands, wiping sweat from his brow as Energon dripped from his rubber gloves. Ratchet even looked pleased with his progress and took the moment to say so, as the repaired Camaro chirruped.

“Not bad… for a first time… you show  promise.”

The teen’s no doubt sarcastic reply dropped unsaid from his lips as he sighted his surrogate mom, standing in the doorway.

The CMO looked to the visitors, then to Optimus, as Judy repeated her question. Startled by her assertiveness, Ratchet was simply blunt in his answer.

“The damage he sustained was too severe for him to be moved. He’s only just stabilized this morning.”

As truthful as it was, it was also the stupidest answer the medic could have given especially to a worried mother.

“I’m taking my son home and, so help me, he will never be put in any danger again“  Turning on Simmons she glared. “You’ll be lucky if I don’t sue.”

Despite the fact there was a low possibility that she could, he wasn’t taking chance.

Optimus said nothing, Ratchet however wasn’t so quiet.

“His condition is nothing any hospital could handle. Primus, it’s nothing I’m trained to handle.”

Turning back, Judy was not having any of it.“My son is coming home with me, where he belongs.”

To her surprise Samuel Witwicky disagreed. “I can’t.”

Judy stared at her baby anger and confusion on her face.

“But Sam.”

“There are things beyond anyone's control, things that we are meant to do, things we can’t explain.”

Moving forward he slid from the table, wobbling as he stood. She almost moved to help him, but Mikaela’s hand on her arm stopped her.

“We’re in the middle of a fight…. Just because we won a battle, doesn’t mean we’ve won the war. I have got to see this through. I don’t know what will happen, but I have to stay.”

There were tears in her eyes and he stared back firm in his resolve. She’d never seen him like that before, and to be honest, it scared her.

“I don’t want to lose you. I couldn’t bear to.”

He shook his head, eyes almost glowing in the light. “You won’t”

No one moved and they scarcely breathed eyes and optics set on the mother and son.

“I don’t know that” she insisted, memories of her baby boy fresh in her mind.

Before anything else the yellow, but no less impressive form of Sam’s guardian Bumblebee, loomed over him setting large yet gentle hands over his shoulders. He smiled to his friend, covering one large hand with his own.

“No harm shall come to Samuel James Witwicky, not while I still function. I will protect him from any and every threat, until the day nothing else exists. This I swear, by the very spark in my chest.”

Stalwart and steadfast, the Autobot looked to all witnesses of his declaration, to his solemn commander and to his charge’s surprise maternal unit. Not a soul moved. Still he held Sam and waited for any recompense, but none came.

There was nothing to say.

 


	11. Bang On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, real life showed up and kicked my butt. I really owe much thanks and love to mmouse15 and dragoona and thanks to all the readers
> 
> So here it goes. This is the re-edited version of Sparks. Thanks to gracesolo for all of the wonderful beta work, hand holding and laughter. You’re my hero hon!
> 
> 1-25-17  
> So I'm not dead. Really. It took me longer to get back into this than I thought it would so I plan to edit and upload the chapters asap and then get to writing the new stuff. I'm not sorry for the wait, but I thank you for your patience.  
> I mean if I keep apologizing, I'd never stop ya know?

1111111111

Bang On

1111111111

At the edge of the “Battle Born State”, in a stripped silver mine, the strength of the Decepticon forces was subpar at best. Holed up in the largest chamber of the connected tunnels Megatron waited; sulked and plotting his next move.

The bulk of his forces had been forced to flee their former base of operations. An oversight of monumental proportions had allowed the escape of their illustrious prisoners. As infuriating as it was, there was nothing to be done about now.

Previously, such incidents would end with Megatron expressing his rage at the source of the annoyance, or on the nearest functioning creature. Unfortunately, he had not possessed that particular luxury as of late. It wasn’t good practice to maim a subordinate, especially since there were so few Decepticons left.

Sinking to the floor of the hollowed cavern, the former Lord High Protector cursed the very predicament in which he found himself and settled into a light recharge. He was as cruel and prideful as the next mech in his position, but he wasn’t stupid. To achieve his goal, he would have to bend All Spark to his will; but there would be time enough for that, once his pet was reclaimed.

As he passed the main hall, the domain of his Lord and master, Starscream growled in annoyance. He slunk through the dank, empty shafts, as his talons carved rock from the walls.

He hated being underground. He hated the terrain.

He hated this whole damned planet.

He was a Seeker and he was being refused the very thing that kept his processors from shorting. Above all else, he concluded, flicking gravel from his helm, he hated the planet.

Almost as if he’d accessed it himself, a familiar signal registered on his HUD. Confusion flickered in the back of his processor, and he went to investigate. After all there wasn’t much else to be done. His rise to power could wait until after his systems finished regenerating.

Making an awkward turn, the Air Commander scored the sensitive plating of his wings. With a shriek of pain, he cursed the rotating mud ball he was currently stationed on. Red optics winking in the darkness, he slunk towards the energy source. If at the very least, he could torment the remaining subordinates he came across.

Megatron was not the only mech in a foul mood.

Not so far away, silver-blue energy rippled along the form of a prone Decepticon, as it rekindled lost light.

The glow radiated across the floor, reflecting off the other metallic behemoths in the cave. Just as suddenly as it came, it faded leaving tiny flashing lights in pale optics, before they too disappeared.

Awareness slowly returned to the mech, his processors online well before its optical receptors even began to flicker. His audials were offline, but a quick scan of the mech’s surroundings filled in the details of his current location, as its rudimentary systems rebooted.

Propped against a wall of a cool, dusty, underground lair; the blind Cybertronian was suddenly aware of something settling across its framework. The smaller creature climbed over his form. The weight and movement were familiar, reassuringly familiar. Sharpened claws tapped along the dented alloy of the mech’s legs, in a rhythmic beat. The piercing tones came again, quicker than before and produced a sound now, recognizable as a message. By the third repetition, Blackout’s assimilated knowledge of the planet’s communications allowed him to translate the taps into something more.  
  
Though he was not fully functional, the mechanoid managed a pained smile. Activating his communications system, he was rewarded by the collection of codes and signals that signified his longtime companion.

_~Greetings Skorponok~_

The tapping came again, this time bearing warnings from the diminutive drone. To ensure both their safety and secrecy, wide band transmissions were out of the question. It was better if the recently revived Decepticon remained silent. Another burst of Morse code indicated the drone’s relief at their reunion and its regret for what it had to do.

Its movements over the dark frame resonated differently through the copter’s larger form and again he acknowledged, granting permission, almost reassuring in that terse instant.

_~ Go Ahead. ~_

As claws scraped across his damaged torso, the flier braced himself as the drone began to reconnect damaged wiring. As Blackout finally came online, the first thing that cut through his abused receptors was the sound his own pained screams.

Data flowed through his network, as his latent processors kicked in, updating systems and running checks. Optical reception returned suddenly and the downed mech returned to fully operational status. Looking to the drone turned nursemaid, the Decepticon pushed himself to stand despite Scorponok’s protests. Moving through the pain, he almost stood to his full imposing height and crossed his arms, eyes flickering dangerously in the dark.

“My, look what the pit crawler dredged up.”

The speaker was readily apparent, as he moved into to the dug out cave. Sneering at them, the Air Commander stepped inside, scrutinizing his resurrected subordinate. He stopped, turning on the drone, its tail curling and uncurling as the inset turbines in its claws and chest whirled slowly.

“It seems you aren’t completely useless grounder.”

Blackout bristled at the remark.

There was some incident or situation that he hadn’t been privy to; in truth he didn’t appreciate the seeker’s treatment of his partner. To its credit, the scorpion made a rude noise, but began minor repairs to the other’s framework. It was pleased; evident by the way it moved and carried its tail.

Blackout seemed satisfied by this, and settled against the wall to watch.

The dirt covered flier snarled at the less than gentle pokes of his dents and scrapes, but he allowed the oversized scorpion to continue. The previous wounds he’d acquired during the battle for the All Spark paled in comparison to the damage he’d accumulated in the days after. He bore claw marks down his torso and burnt out circuitry in his processors.

The familiar damage made it all too clear just what the Air Commander had been up to as of late. Snorting in amusement, Blackout took the reprieve to pick chunks of stone from his joints. He was fairly unperturbed by his sudden return to life, for he had been dead.

Offlined, terminated.

His spark had passed from existence and gone on to the great beyond.

Since his creation, the copter never had been a very religious mech. He’d never had any reason to be. At his death, however, he’d seen the culmination of life, existing sparks, sparks that had been and sparks yet to be. He’d never known such peace during his entire existence.

Unfortunately for him, it was not fated to last. Pain had drawn him from his rest, lighting like fire over his consciousness as he was torn from the Well of Sparks. It had not been pleasant, to say the least.

His sentiment was no doubt reciprocated by the growling mech on the other side of the cavern. The newly awakened weapon, known as Brawl moved slowly, his limbs bearing the marks of a recent weld job. Clawing his large hands into the dirt, the mech pushed himself to his full height and bellowed.

The sound of the furious mech rocked the tunnel with the fury of an earthquake. Stalking forward, he knocked Starscream off his feet, bringing both his cannons and claws to bear. Roaring once more as dirt fell like hail, the transformed tank punched his bladed appendage into the rock face just above the seeker’s head. Despite the display of mindless, violence, and complete disregard for a superior, his contemporaries were not impressed.

A clawed slap to the offending mech was effective enough to silence him and amuse the metal behemoths. Satisfied with the result, Barricade made a return to the dark corner he’d appeared from. He, just as most of the subterranean secluded aliens, had been a foul mood ever since their subsequent defeat at the hands of the Autobots. Hiding was never the interceptor’s strong point.

Struggling up from his position on the floor, the seeker backhanded the scowling tank and glared at the amused Decepticons. Snarling, he addressed the assembled mechanoids.

“Lord Megatron is displeased with your performance.”

Glaring back at him, Barricade leaned forward his doors twitching irritably.

“Tell us something we don’t know.”

Starscream turned on him, but refrained from causing any damage. He instead, opted to take advantage of another opportunity to irritate the black and white mech.

“Return to Tranquility, seek out the fleshling and observe him.”

Furious at the assignment, the mech nearly refused, but fell silent as the Second in Command charged his weapons. Blackout, however, was not easily cowed; nor did he see the reasoning for the order. As usual he made his point known, all but questioning the flier’s orders.

“What manner of importance is the fleshling? What of the All Spark?”  
  
Whirling on the newly resurrected helicopter, Starscream’s facial plates stretched into a twisted smile. Catching the darker chest plates the smaller seeker hauled Blackout down to look him in the optics.

“Fool” he barked, his voice reaching all audials in room. “It is the All Spark.”

A terse silence reigned at least until Brawl finally spoke. “And what of the Autobots?”

“Follow your orders and fear them not. Very soon, they’ll no longer be a problem.”

11111111111

Sam Witwicky stretched his feet, squishing plush pillows into the headboard of his bed. Staring at the desk, his eyes followed the fishy form of Goldbug exploring the confines of her new bowl. Orange tail fluttering, she circled and blubbed and generally behaved like a fish. Sam grew bored rather quickly. Yawning briefly, he prodded the gauze bandaging his wrists and looked to Miles.

“How long is this going to take?”

Balanced over his friend’s legs, examining the damage previously inflicted by the Decepticons, the blonde scoffed and flicked Sam in the head. “It will take as long as it takes, stop moving.”

The glares and protests he received, were ignored in favor of the still healing wounds. The bruises had turned from the ugly purple to a more natural brownish color, the bloody scratches had all scabbed and it had all occurred in less than two weeks. It was amazing really, but that wasn’t really what he was worried about.

Scooting back, the teen turned medic brushed the edges of the inserted metal.

Sam twitched, but tried not to move. “Why am I listening to you anyway?”

Resisting the urge to smack him again, Miles rolled his eyes and reached for the required tools sitting on the bedside table. In other words, a jar of Q-Tips and a bottle of rubbing alcohol

“Doctor’s orders.”

Rubbing his head, Sam couldn’t resist baiting his best friend. “Miles. You’re not a doctor “

“Medic’s assistant.” he amended, twisting the cap from the small bottle in hand. Juggling it and the cotton tipped swabs; the teen shifted, moving to clean his patient’s wounds.

This one unfortunately, thought he was a comedian.

“Don’t you mean nurse?”  
  
“Nope.”

Sam yelped, suddenly as the insertion of a swab into port above his hips was done more forcefully than necessary. Jerking against the bed, Witwicky almost bit his tongue. His best friend, it seemed, was not in the mood to be teased. Not that Sam was in the mood to be poked and prodded. It tickled at best, made him squirm at the very worse.  
  
He was granted momentary reprieve as Miles rose to his knees, his weight all but gone from Sam’s back. Taking the fleeting freedom, the brunet stretched again, working the faint soreness from his muscles. It was bad enough submitting to a systems check from Ratchet, but now his best friend was playing nursemaid, not as if he really needed it.

His thoughts were immediately sidelined as the geeky teen dropped onto his back, poking the aperture in his neck. That one, to be honest, was way more sensitive than the rest and it showed.

Coughing and sputtering as the medical assistant worked, Sam gripped the white sheets swearing softy. It stung like hell, feeling the it twisting inside, but was necessary for it to heal right or that’s what Ratchet had said. Wincing, Sam was pretty sure he didn’t give a damn what the Medic said, he was not letting anyone else near the holes in his body, any of them.

“I’m gonna kill you and your sisters and your toad…” he threatened, desperate for the torment to be over. After another agonizing few seconds his prayers were answered and Miles withdrew the implement of torture from his neck. In gratitude, he shoved him off the bed and went to examine his wounds.

The issue of short-circuiting himself had been taken care of, as the firewall Ratchet had erected was still in place.

It was weird having a tangible system running through his consciousness. It was there, he could just make it out when things were quiet, in the dark just before he fell asleep or when he woke up, he could feel the energy flicking through him. It had gone from creepy, to weird, to just being a simple fact of his new not so normal life.

Miles moved from the floor and propped his elbows on the bed, poking his best friend in the ribs as retaliation for the attack.  
“Leave the Arod and the girls out of this. “ He grumbled softly, but accepted the lopsided grin Witwicky threw at him.

“If you’re gonna kill anyone, I vote you “take care” of those walking miscreants.”

Sitting up Sam rolled his eyes and prepared for the worst, Lancaster only used big words when something really annoyed him. “What did they do now?”

“What haven’t they done?”

Falling silent Sam actually had to consider that statement.  
  
The twins, as the red and yellow Lamborghinis were affectionately dubbed, had a knack for getting themselves in and out of trouble, without getting slagged. You either loved them or hated them.

Miles’s stance was pretty obvious.

They were just as much a nuisance to him as they were to Ratchet and that's saying something. From what Sam knew it, had all started the moment they’d arrived.

Not too long ago, the twins had received their first Earthside check up. As Ratchet’s new assistant, Miles had found himself squaring off with the pair of hellraisers. First they squabbled over who would receive attention first. Then, as Miles was examining Sunstreaker, his cohort proceeded to ask Miles about some of the more lewd aspects of human mating practices.

Flustered, he still managed to complete his first preliminary exam, but only after Ratchet had threatened the duo with an oversized wrench. Surprisingly, the pair managed to escape the encounter without any damage, though not before Sunstreaker nearly crushed Miles. He’d made a disparaging remark about the Autobot’s paint job and that had only been the beginning.

Not two days later, Miles managed to splatter a bottle Mountain Dew over Sideswipe. For that mistake, he spent the rest of the day locked in a storage closet. Tensions had eventually escalated to the point where the human simply kicked the nearest tire when the Lambos got too obnoxious. His temporary solution had backfired and thus begun the bumper car stage of their relationship.

The last thing Sam heard was that Miles had begun threatening the Twins with a wrench. It wasn’t a very effective threat, but according to the latest scuttlebutt, it worked well enough.

Then again, Witwicky had skipped lunch in the cafe for another session with Ratchet.

The mech had made sure to inform him that Optimus would be visiting the Dam at the end of the week and that he wanted to speak with Sam.

The walking All Spark had an idea of what it was about, but he’d wait until he heard it from the big mech himself.

Optimus, Ironhide, and Prowl were almost never seen within Sector Seven’s walls; nobody blamed them.

Ratchet, on the other hand, was almost a fixture in the lower labs; he’d even acquired his own workspace in the former Cube room.

Bumblebee and Chromia only stayed for their respective charges, for neither Sam nor Trent had been cleared for release.

The jock was still being stubborn and refusing to sign the nondisclosure agreement, so until he did, he was considered a ‘guest’. Samuel was still considered legally dead and the matter had yet to be resolved. He wasn’t too worried; his parents had stopped talking about throwing him a wake at least.

His dad was on about Viking Funerals though.

On that account, Miles had apparently convinced his mother that the Tyger Pax immersion Program was now some pre-college, science-medical summer camp. She’d been thrilled he’d been doing more with his time than video games.

It wasn’t a lie exactly

The same way Mikaela’s omission han’t been.

Not really

Even so, Sam still felt betrayed.

It had been almost two weeks and they hadn’t really spoken. They’d been civil anytime they managed to see each other, but that was the extent of their contact. Such a big change from the puppy love they’d developed before the alien robots.

“Sam. Dude—Earth. Now.”

Fingers snapped emphatically before Sam’s face, as Miles tried desperately to get his attention.

For his part the brunet didn’t even flinch. “You don’t look like they set your hair on fire.”

He replied calmly referencing the stilted conversation.

“Huh? Close, but no cigar, and that’s not the point.” Rising from the floor, Miles pushed Sam over enough to claim half of the bed for himself

“So what is the point Miles?”

“What that little bastard did.”

“What did Sunstreaker do to you?”

He didn’t really know if Sunstreaker was the mech in question, but it was more likely than not. He had an antagonistic relationship with Miles ever since he’d scuffed his paint.

When the nursemaid didn’t reply immediately, Sam knew he was right.

“Miles, what did the alien car do to you?”

Grumbling softly, the younger man picked at the scrubs he wore refusing to look Sam in the eye.“That god-awful, sports car from Hell lubricated me.”

“What?” asked Sam

“I’m not going to repeat myself.” Miles declared flushing red.

“Lubricated? Like Bee did to…”

“Yes Sam. Lubricated. That Asshole hit me in the head with the fuel cap and everything.” he growled in reply jamming his hands in his pockets staring at the ceiling. “Thankfully my mouth was closed.”

To his credit, Samuel didn’t laugh; not aloud at any rate.

“We’re gonna have to talk to Bumblebee about what sort of things are appropriate to teach the “newcomers”.

It took a moment for the owner of the aforementioned Autobot to realize what Miles had said.

“Since when do you call him by name?”

“Since I’ve been elbow deep in his inner workings. After seeing that, I can’t just call him “The Car” anymore.”

“I suppose you’re…Wait a minute. When did that happen?”

Sam sat up; turning on his friend, panic in his features.

Mentally kicking himself for the slip, Miles decided it was better to come clean then try and hide what he knew.

Screw doctor patient confidentiality.

“He’s fine; it was just a few minor repairs.

“Miles?”

Groaning, the teen slapped a hand over his face. Even he, was not immune to the sad-lost-puppy-look Witwicky had taken years to perfect.

“It was his throat, Ratchet finally got the time and parts we needed to fix it.”

“I thought Ratchet wasn’t having you work on inner circuitry yet.”

“He’s long since learned to appreciate the sort of work small hands can do; besides I was partly responsible.” Miles admitted lamely.

“Responsible?”

“I kinda wrenched some of the cables in his throat the first time we met.

”It couldn’t have been that bad.” Sam reasoned skeptically.

“Meg-emo-tron or whatever tore out twelve, I wrenched four.”  
The blank look on Witwicky’s face was more than enough encouragement for him to continue the explanation. “Most of those inside-y parts were pretty much outside-y parts.”

“So he was…”

“Dangerously close to becoming permanently mute.”

A slash across the throat drove home his meaning and Sam sunk back into his squished pillow looking apprehensive.

Rolling his eyes, Lancaster sighed. “Sam, Bee is fine. He’ll be up bouncing around before you know it. Promise.”

His words seemed to satisfy Sam and with that minor crisis over the blond sat back to enjoy his lunch break. Leaning against the headboard, he looked to his friend and pressed the Ipod headphone into his ear.

“Honestly, the way you two act, it’s like you’re in a relationship.”

“We’re not in a relationship, Miles.”

Flipping through the track listing, the teen laughed. ”It just seems that way.”

In that instant, Samuel seemed completely clueless. “Does it?”

“Well, yeah. From what I’ve seen you two are pretty close, and you only met like last month?”

The first time he’d seen Sam and Bee interact; the alien was rushing to protect Sam. He’d aggravated his own injuries rushing to be at Sam’s side.

The big robot had even attacked a mouthy Decepticon that made an off color remark about his boy. Later, after Sam awakened, Bumblebee had clung to him and refused to let go. He’d even gone as far as swearing an oath to protect him, in front of his mother no less.

Skipping a ballad that Casey had no doubt snuck into his playlist, Miles decided to give his friend a push in the right direction.  
“He obviously cares about you a lot. I mean, he practically serenades you on a regular basis. He’s a total product of the eighties.”

“Like you’re one to talk.” Sam’s tone was teasing, but his mind was on something other than history.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Miles was right. Bumblebee did care about him and he obviously cared about him too. Things had just gotten a bit more interesting.

Used to his friend’s scatterbrained tendencies Lancaster instead offered him the second ear bud. Taking it with a wry smile Sam laughed.  
“Just like old times.”

“Except for the secret government agency, the alien cars, and the freaky tattoos.”

“All of which happen to be classified gentlemen.”

In the open doorway stood Mikaela Banes dressed in a black jumpsuit with her hair pulled back in a braid. She flipped the plait over her shoulder before stepping fully into the room.

“So what brings you by?” Miles inquired casually, as he gave Sam a firm poke in the ribs.

“I was coming to see how you were doing since the incident.”

Unable to hide his blush of embarrassment, the blond looked away. “Yeah well, you know me. I’m fine.” he insisted.

Banes offered an apologetic smile. “Even so, I thought this might help.”

With a simple gesture, the young agent tossed a plastic bag to the bed. Inside was a box of candy that Sam was stunned to find.

“Milk Duds?”

There was almost no way. She shouldn’t have even known the significance of the candy itself.  
Not unless. He turned examining his companion’s features. Miles looked the picture of innocence and skipped another song.

“Dude, you told her?”

“I had to talk to somebody while you were out of commission.”

The statement did hold some merit, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. Miles was free to make friends and tell them whatever he wanted, even if they pertained directly to his relationship with Sam

Milk Duds had been a part of their relationship since the beginning. Miles used to be addicted to the round candy. It had become an appeasement of sorts, especially when things were awkward between them.

It was a way to make peace without arguing or fighting.  
  
It was almost endearing, the gesture. It was almost as if she was trying to apologize. It wasn’t that he was mad at her for joining Sector Seven. OK so he was. He more upset that she was defending them. It wasn’t unreasonable, but truthfully, he was being a bit of an ass. He looked to the pretty brunette and she smiled again.

Chewing his lip, he opened his mouth to speak. Miles, however, chose that moment to continue his rant.  
“I mean who would else would I talk to…Trent?”

“He’s really not that bad.” Witwicky replied offhandedly.

The pair gave him a weird look and he shrugged.

“I had to talk to someone when you two were working.”

The laughter that followed was a refreshing change from the awkward silences the trio had become used to over the last few days. It was nice and Sam realized how much he’d missed it.

When she could finally speak again, Mikaela wiped tears from her eyes and made her excuses.

“I just came by to say hi, and to let you know Trent finally signed the paperwork.”

She paused at Miles’s enthusiastic cheer.  
“He’ll be out of here before the end of the day.” Her words were a less than subtle encouragement for the teens to make their farewells, even if they couldn’t stand the guy.

She stood silently for a moment more before moving to the door.  
“I’ve got a class to get to right now, but I’ll see you guys later ok?”  
As they nodded she waved again and slipped out of the room, her boots echoing down the hall.

Silently, Miles elbowed his friend in the ribs.

When that, too, failed he shoved him to his feet.

“Dude, go after her.”

Unable to argue Witwicky stumbled from his room and into the hall still shirtless.

He turned to complain, but found this minor issue rectified as Miles tossed him his shirt.

“Elevator’s that way.”

Nodding at him Samuel stumbled barefoot through the hall pulling a shirt over his head.

“Mikaela!”

In his own little way, Miles was right, they had to talk. They couldn’t just keep dancing around each other. They’d been through too much for things to stay that way. They’d fought evil aliens’ intent on taking over their planet, after all.

Whipping around the corner, Sam managed to make it to the elevator bay just as the doors closed. Swearing softly he stumbled back. He’d just missed her.

There were things he’d needed to say, to do. With so much time on his hands as of late, he was really getting tired of waiting.

Slumping against the wall, he sighed deeply.To his surprise, the movement was punctuated by a loud ding. Turning to the sound the teen was greeted by the sight of Mikaela leaning against the elevator doors.

“You wanted something?”

Stepping forward, he stared dumbly, “Can I walk you to class?”

“That would be great.” She smiled and extended her hand.

Slipping inside he took it and a post at her right. Standing there under the fluorescent lights in black and heels with her hair pulled up, she was the most beautiful he’d ever seen her. He had to tell her how he felt. There was no use denying it anymore.

“Mikaela,” he began, looking from her hand to their hazy reflections in the doors.

“Sam?”

The brunette inclined her head slightly. She was about his height even in the boots. Turning her towards him, Sam leaned forward and kissed the girl of his dreams. Unnoticed, the elevator continued its ascent and stopped on the designated floor. The bell rung and he pulled away, staring ahead as neither spoke. The doors opened and he nodded to himself.

I am not in love with you.”

Pressing her lips together, the former jock-concubine laughed. “Oh Sam, I know.”

Looking at her, really looking at her in the first time in what seemed like ages Sam smiled back.

11111111111

Reclining on the makeshift operating table, Chromia hummed to herself with half an audial focused on the medic reprimanding her.

“You usually take better care of yourself. This is the sort of thing I expect out of Firestar, not you. Not to mention the fact I just repaired most of these systems.”

His rants were nothing new, but it was reassuring to have the grouch medic fixing what she couldn’t and warning her about what she could. It almost made her wonder what else he knew.

“So…how is he?”

The statement caught him off guard, but he covered it in an exaggerated show of tightening a loose connection. She winced, but pressed on, unwilling to just give up.

“Ratchet.”

He ignored her words, focusing instead on an inner mechanism of her chassis. Her irritated grumble reached his audial receptors, but he paid it no mind, at least not until she trapped his hands against her open frame.

“Ratchet.”

He looked at her then; his optics hard and distant. It was a look she’d seen before, a look many under his skillful hands had seen.

He only ever used it to distance himself from the work before him. It was just another one of those things that made him such a skilled medic.  
Frustrated by his actions, the Lieutenant sat up, still clutching the brightly colored hands to her chest. He gave her an irritated look, but she ignored that too.

“How is he?”

“Doctor patient confidentiality.”  
He replied smoothly, citing the old excuse.  
She snorted and tried again.  
“I’m not asking medically and you know it. I want to know how he is, because by the Pit he won’t even speak to me.”

“Chromia.”

She shook her head, refusing to listen to anything until he heard what she had to say. He was notoriously stubborn, but then again so was she.

It was part of their programming.

“I haven’t seen Ironhide since the fall of Simfur and the loss of the All Spark. All I want to know is that he’s alright.”

When no reply came, she squeezed his hands and continued; her voice softer than he’d ever heard it.

“Ratchet, I am his spark-mate.”

Drawing back, the larger bot pushed his patient to lay back against the table. He brushed her hands aside and he resumed his work in silence, initializing the recently uploaded programs. When he finished he closed the plating gently and examined its bright surface.

“He’s alright. He wasn’t at first…..”  
The older bot looked to her, watching, as he spoke.  
“But he is now.”

The less than subtle inference immediately set the femme on edge and she frowned. His words had been what she’d wanted in the first place and they weren’t reassuring in the least.

She knew what he meant.

She should have seen it before.

Their time apart was not the only reason ‘Hide was avoiding her.

He’d moved on. To be fair, she could have handled it, but the revelation of with whom.  
Resisting the urge to take her frustration out on the messenger, she stood.

She cut the medic off and turned away intent on leaving both him and his warnings behind.

“Chromia.” He began, reaching to stop her.

She evaded the gesture, her recently calibrated joints whined in protest, she ignored them turning to address the CMO.

“I understand completely, I’ll do nothing to ruin all your hard work.”

Watching her stalk away, Ratchet had a suspicion she wasn’t just referring to his efforts repairing her systems.

11111111111

After bidding Mikaela farewell with a simple kiss on the cheek, Sam Witwicky wandered blissfully back to the elevators. She’d laughed at the gesture and warned him not to get too used to it. Pressing the button, the tattooed teen found himself humming along with the less than desirable background music.

He hadn’t really expected that or rather, he hadn’t expected her to be so accommodating.

No, that wasn’t the word.

He didn’t think about it too hard.

He’d never been in such a situation before and probably wouldn’t be again. It had been kinda nice though, having a popular girlfriend. Having a girlfriend had been pretty cool, but it just didn’t compare with having a new car.

As he checked his watch, Sam’s smile spread that much more. Bumblebee would be back from patrol and they’d have the rest of the week to themselves at least until Optimus returned.

The big guy had been in conferences with Secretary Keller and Tom Banachek since last week and wasn’t scheduled to be back until Sunday.

The weekend. It was a welcome reprieve from everything. He’d already made plans to go driving with Bee, unauthorized of course. Neither was taking too well to being followed. It was a “necessary” precaution he could definitely live without, unfortunately neither the government nor the Autobots agreed with him.

Once off the elevator, Sam stepped into the wide gallery that overlooked the cube hanger. The nearly empty space was now designated as a temporary lab and the site of almost all Autobot human interactions. Only that floor and the two above it came even close to being large enough to house even the smallest of the alien robots.

It was alright, most of the agents were content watching the robotic invaders rather than conversing with them. He didn’t blame them in the least; it was rather disconcerting talking to an alien four or five times your own height. He was still just getting used to it himself.

Footsteps behind him drew his attention and revealed just that man he expected to see.

“Hey.”

Trent waved and moved closer, his eyes taking in the unknown equipment and surrounding earth. In a way it was actually kind of pretty, in an artistic sort of way.

“Nice rocks.”

“Yeah, the striations are probably due to water flow.”

Looking surprised, Sam could only nod dumbly.

“Yeah, that’s cool.”

The conversation dropped as suddenly as it had begun neither having anything Non sequitur left to say. They always had that sort of interaction between them. Pressing his forehead to the glass Witwicky spoke again.

“I heard you’re leaving.”

Tapping the glass beside him, the jock nodded, a grin crossing his face.

“Yeah, and it couldn’t have come soon enough. All this secret agent crap just isn’t doing it for me.”

Smiling, the shorter teen nodded in reply. “I hear what you’re saying; just take it easy, alright?”

The star tight-end gave Sam an incredulous look, before turning back to the glass, his smirk spreading that much more.

“Witwicky, don’t start mothering me, I got an alien car doing that already and so do you.”

“Just don’t get yourself killed.”

“Funny Witwicky, I was going to say the same to you.”  
As he spoke the aforementioned, Hummer emerged from the cordoned corner of the room.

“That’s my ride. I am outta of here.”  
Flicking the geek in the head, Trent DeMarco grinned again.  
“That’s for stealing my girl.”

Rubbing the bruising spot Sam shook his head. ”I didn’t, we’re not!”

“Stop pussyfooting around then. Get with the girl, or not. Just don’t keep her waiting. Life’s too short for that.”  
  
With that bit of wisdom, Trent disappeared around the corner with a final farewell.  
“See you around Witwicky!”

As the teen departed, Samuel made his way down to the hanger proper. He’d become used to traversing the wide empty space and its occupants tended to give him wide berth. Was the universe conspiring against him? Things were happening like a bad soap opera.

It was like he was some main character who was supposed to put all the pieces together and realize he was in love before the heroine left him for good.

It was silly really; there was no way he was in love.

Was there?

Truth to be told, he was a bit thickheaded when it came to such things.

As if cued, the brilliant yellow form of the alien Camaro rolled into view, loud music blasting from its radio.

_“Hey you! Yes you... Yes you, the one that looks delirious... Come over here and-”_

Moving to touch him, Sam nearly jumped at the static charge that met his fingertips.

Maybe someone was trying to tell him something.

“Hey Bee.”

The car rumbled at the touch, cruising forward to bump his knees. The touch was soft; it was the Autobot’s own way of greeting his companion and friend. It was almost affectionate. Moving slowly, the teen brushed his hand over the warm metal as he figured out just what he wanted to say.

Staring at the alien being that had ultimately changed his life forever, Sam found a shy smile working its way across his lips.

“Bumblebee? We need to talk.”


	12. Page Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a list of people to thank for this chapter. Lovely special people who put up with my random attempts at plot and prose.  
> Muzaiden- My brilliant and insane twin is finally making her debut as Co-writer. dragoona lemonflav_lopfe dania99 lady_foxfire mmouse15 mimi_sardinia okami_myrrhibis tsumiden All of these fine folk witnessed bits of the chapter before completion and we're only too kind to offer kind words and advice. And the Musical accompaniment lady_foxfire and lemonflav_lopfe This pair also helped in the final decisions for song selections.  
> I owe them all a great deal of thanks. Mere words cannot express the appreciation I feel for their timely assistance. But In lieu of that I offer this fic.
> 
> You're my 6-10-17  
> Crazy things going on. Tax season kicked my butt and I've been job hunting ever since. Got into playing pokemon Moon and setting up the house. I don't know if I ever mentioned it but we moved last year and it's a full house.  
> So this weekend is going to be a revamp and renewel of Sparks and I'm hoping to get something out on flames soon. Thanks for bearing with me. As always transform and roll out!

* * *

  
121212121212  
  
Sparks 12: Page Out  
  
121212121212

  
  
It was nearly dark when Chromia crossed the Tranquility city limits. Tucked securely inside her cab, Trent DeMarco scrolled through the recent call list on his phone.  
  
He'd only just gotten his mobile back before they'd left the 'super secret government facility'.  
  
Hoover Dam had been pretty nice for all it’s picturesque landscape and cultural relevance, but Trent never wanted to see it again. He couldn't think of it as anything other than a cheap Area 51. He'd been assured that it, along with everything else he'd seen did not exist.  
  
Not that he cared.  
  
He just wanted to go home.  
  
His inbox was filled with calls from his mother, his now ex-girlfriend, a few classmates and the latest cutie he'd been entertaining on the side.  
  
He shrugged and tucked the phone away, unwilling to jump back into reality so quickly.  
  
Things had changed, he'd changed.

 

During his internment, he'd even deigned himself to talk with Witwicky. The kid wasn't actually half-bad, not that he liked him or anything. He had absconded with his girlfriend, after all.  
  
The fact she'd even considered dating him was more of an ego blow than anything else.  
  
And now they weren't even together. It was beyond comprehension, well almost. It seemed the little dork was feeling his car more than the playboy bunny in training.  
  
Sliding his hands along the steering wheel, Demarco nearly laughed  
  
From what he could tell Mikaela couldn't care less. She was just thankful that she'd finally met a decent guy who wasn't just interested in getting to know her better. The busty brunette was almost as into cars as heavily as Witwicky. They were practically perfect for each other, just not romantically.

Lancaster, now he was a mystery.  
  
He'd gotten mixed up in the conspiracy and was just as much of a spare wheel as Trent himself.  
  
During his stay at the underground facility he'd managed to endear himself to the medic and become his assistant. The fact he was actually good came as a surprise, albeit a welcome one, to the parties involved.  
  
The so-called team that he had refused to join.  
  
It wasn't that he didn't like the Autobots.  
  
He already loved Chromi and Mikaela's little truck buddy wasn't half bad. He just wasn't about to get wrapped up in something so weird.  
  
He'd missed enough practices already.  
  
The aforementioned Hummer neatly took a left by the darkened coffee shop half a mile down from the High school and cruised down the empty street. From above, the street lights cast shadows across her and her passenger as she pulled to a stop at a corner. The radio went off with a click and she activated her communications system.  
  
"Hey Sugah?"  
  
He turned at the sound eyes roaming the interior as his heart rate increased. The femme could have slagged herself for the slip. He was still just getting used to the changes in his life. She scowled internal scans flicking over him more out of habit than worry as he tried to relax.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You alright there?" she inquired softly headlights illuminating her path.  
  
"I'm just thinking" he shrugged, as she eased past the familiar buildings of his hometown.  
  
"About?"  
  
Trent shifted in his seat, and removed his cap. Just outside, a sleek silver vehicle passed by with a low rumble.  
  
He never used to think about cars so much before, well, except for her.  
  
"Your friends are a bit much."  
  
The Autobot snorted, the radio giving a burst of static.  
  
"And yours aren't?"  
  
She was speaking from experience of course. As his baby, she'd carted the teen and his 'groupies' around on more than one occasion. A gaggle of rowdy minors she could handle even if they had the combined manners of a wet napkin. Her real issue was with the other, more intimate encounters she'd been privy to in her time as his car, none of which she cared to repeat.  
  
"While we're on the subject, no more happy time in my backseat. Please."  
  
Resisting the urge to laugh, he curled his hand lightly over her steering wheel. "I thought you liked being touched."  
  
His retort was also born of prior knowledge. After her secret had been revealed to him and the resulting chaos had died down Trent had taken some time to reacquaint himself with his little 'bunny'. His attempt had consisted of nothing more than curious poking her of alternate mode, but more specifically those very touches were just enough stimulation to evoke a unusual reaction. Never before had he ever heard a car purr in the matter she had once his hands brushed her grill. Chromia had responded favorably to the contact, not that she herself was surprised; she'd gone without it for far longer than even she cared to admit.  
  
"Not by vapid little playmates." She corrected him sharply.  
  
"By who then?"  
  
The sudden question left the femme startled and unsure how to answer. Instead she ignored the question and focused on scanning the surroundings. Perturbed by the sudden tight lipped stance the Hummer had taken, the young human was forced to make his own assumptions.  
  
"Not the Big guy?"  
  
"Optimus? No o'course not. That fine piece of mech is too focused on his work. Still, he is easy on the optics."  
  
Her confession came as a surprise, but it wasn't quite the answer he was looking for so he tried again considering the available candidates. He was silent for almost a minute before speaking again.  
  
"Prowl?"  
  
"No!"  
  
Her reply was sharp and unexpected to the curious teen; he stared at the lights of her dashboard as her tone softened. "His mate, Jazz died after reaching this planet, in the Battle of Mission City. He never got a chance to say goodbye."  
  
The femme hummed softly and turned another corner. reaching the block that held their residence. Basking in the uncertainty, the teen tightened his grip just slightly on the steering wheel.  
  
"Is he going to be ok?"  
  
"He may be or he may not, our kind bond for life-"  
  
"And ours don't?" he interjected folding his arms across his chest.  
  
Chromia sighed slowing down, her lights dimming as she began to correct the misguided assumption.

 

"Not like ours do sugah. Cybertronians bond with the spark of another for our entire lives. We don't fall out of love and we don't leave each other. A Spark Bond lasts from the moment it's made until the point we cease to exist.  
  
"It sounds cheesy." Trent replied offhandedly, but he retracted his statement when the Hummer engaged her brakes.  
  
"You don't hear me criticizing your people's customs do ya?"  
  
"No, but that wasn't the point…"  
  
"Then tell me Mr. DeMarco, what was your point?"  
  
Leaning back, Trent traced little circles on the smooth edge of his seat. Despite the chaos it was pristine and perfect. More so than the girl it was a part of.  
  
"That you're still in love with that guy. You used to be bonded to, Ironhide, right?"  
  
The brilliant blue Hummer sank on her struts, the radio crackling strangely. The very air within in her darkened cabin seemed charged, but that paled in comparison to the tone of his baby's voice.

"I am not bonded."  
  
The rest of her statement trailed off into an incomprehensible mess as she practically vibrated beneath him. After a moment she fell silent, acting in a manner Trent recognized from various female members of his own species. His sentient robotic car was sulking. There had to be more that she wasn't telling him. He just had to find a way to pry it out of her.  
  
"So you weren't bonded to him?"  
  
A low rumble worked its way along her frame.  "Oh we were bonded, ages ago."  
  
"I thought you said such a bond lasts your entire lives."  
  
That sweet voice had turned so cold and every light faded blanketing them in darkness.

 

"It's supposed to-"  
  
"Then?"  
  
"I never said that it couldn't be broken."  
  
With that admission, the driver's side door swung wide, releasing him out onto the street. Unable to find anything to say Trent stepped out moments before the door swung shut.

"Chromia?"  
  
"Good night, Trent…"  
  
With such an air of finality there was nothing for the jock to do, but turn back to his silent home.  
  
Fishing his keys out of his pocket he unlocked the door, reaching for his cell. Turning away from his baby, he punched in a number he never really expected to call as he pushed the door shut.  
  
"Good Night Chromia."  
  
His unheard vocalization didn't last long as the line clicked audibly. Despite the voicemail that greeted him the jock focused only on what he had to say.  
  
"Witwicky. There's something you need to know."  
  
121212121212  
  
Miles ducked another dropped wrench and scuttled back to his place beside Ratchet. The large CMO was in rare form, dressing down the damaged siblings, as his assistant snickered.

 

Apparently, as of four am that morning, an unrecognized signal had hacked the Pentagon and rerouted all of its servers to the popular image-based bulletin board known as 4chan in the span of fifteen minutes. It seemed the twins couldn't stay out of trouble even if they were sitting still, not that either of them claimed responsibility for the crime, but the Autobots knew better.  
  
With Optimus indisposed and no sign of either Prowl or Ironhide, Ratchet was left to dole out punishment. Thankfully for the pair, a brig had yet to be built at the Autobot's unfinished base, but despite that small luxury the medic had developed the best sort of punishment. It was simple, yet effective enough to keep the twins in one place and prevent them from getting into any other sort of devilment.  
  
Probably  
  
Satisfied with his accomplishment, the almost smug Hummer turned to the grease-covered human and held aloft the integral component of Cybertronian technology. It glimmered in the light and the teen stared for a moment, before opening his mouth in what was most surely awe.  
  
"What the heck is it?"  
  
"This, Mr. Lancaster is a transformation cog." Carefully passing the large gear to the blond boy, Ratchet continued his explanation. "Clean it, study it, and know it. There will be a test."  
  
Staggering under the sudden weight, Miles stepped back and cradled the alien technology to his chest.  
  
The action not only redistributed his balance, but splattered his shirt with yet another substance he couldn't identify.  
  
"What does it do?"  
  
The Autobot Officer looked from the rumbling Lamborghinis to Miles and he sighed.  
  
"Exactly as the name implies, now familiarize yourself with its parts and its location in the frame, I'll return shortly."  
  
Dumbfounded, the medic-in-training stared after the departing Autobot.  
  
"Wait! What am I supposed to do?"  
  
As any good instructor would the CMO gave the sputtering teen an encouraging smile.  
  
"You were paying attention weren't you? Deactivate the other one and remove it. I'll show you how to replace them when I get back."  
  
"But..."  
  
Ratchet paused mid-stride to direct a meaningful glare back at the twins.  
  
"You slaggers are on probation. You're playing teaching aids until further notice. Don't do anything and let my assistant work in peace. If you don't-”

 

His next words were in an unknown language, but they sounded downright unpleasent.  
  
Switching from the incomprehensible jumble of Cybertronian curses and complaints, the pair replied in unison.  
  
"Transparently."  
  
Satisfied, the Chief medical officer moved down the hall and disappeared from sight ,leaving the trio behind.  
  
Looking back to the part in his hands, Miles groaned. It was bad enough he was stuck with his least favorite bots in the entire base, but he had to replicate his instructor's work before he could call it a day. Unfortunately, he hadn't really been paying attention while the medic worked.  
  
Not one bit.  
  
So he didn't have a single clue as to what he was supposed to be doing. Setting the large piece down resulted in loud clang that echoed throughout the room and he jumped in surprise. Ignoring the mild laughter from his patients, and source of his perpetual frustration, Miles moved toward Sideswipe with determination.  
  
The red vehicle eased away, lights flashing as he spoke up.  
  
"Wrong one genius."  
  
Rolling his eyes, the teen turned slowly and moved for the second car. He was in low spirits and this was not helping. Rapping his knuckles on the shining hood, Miles addressed the robot-in-disguise.  
  
"Open up."  
  
As he expected the perturbed vehicle refused his request.  
  
"Do it or I'll-"  
  
"You'll what?" came the taunt.

  
"Stop fucking around and open up."  
  
After a few more threats coupled with minor dents and welding torch followed by a sincere entreaty by his brother, Sunstreaker finally popped his hood. The sudden movement forced Miles to jump back, before the swinging panel hit him in the nose. Grabbing the strut he forcefully jerked it into place, ignored a yelp of pain and peered under the hood.  
  
The yellow Lambo's innards were similar to any other Cybertronians, not that Miles had seen many.  
  
Just Bumblebee's and Prowl's and at the time Ratchet had been the one manipulating parts and welding plates. The silver engine was warm to the touch, even through his gloves he paid it little attention instead focusing on the gear he'd been instructed to find. As he navigated the labyrinth of familiar yet alien parts, Sunstreaker was only too happy to let his displeasure be known in lurid detail.  
  
"Ow Ow Ow Ow Ow ow Ow Ow Ow Ow Ow!"  
  
The repetitive interjections, while distracting, didn't deter the teen who responded to each sound in kind.  
  
"Stop complaining. I'm not hurting you. If you keep this up I'm going to deactivate your motor functions!"  
  
Such threats usually presented by Ratchet did not bother the Sunstreaker in the least and he kept it steadily driving the medical assistant insane. Five minutes later and their combined antics were enough to make Sideswipe speak up.  
  
"Primus, you're acting like Sparklings! Streaker, let the human do his work or you'll be on Hatchet's bad side, again. Milton. Stop probing that. The cog you're looking for is to your left. If you're not sure what you're looking for try asking someone who has a clue before you do permanent damage."  
  
At the exclamation, the pair stopped bickering. Exactly forty-five seconds had passed after the exasperated statement before Sunstreaker began laughed hysterically.  
  
"Milton… your true designation is Milton?"  
  
As he spoke the source of his amusement, a one Milton Lancaster, waved a wrench threateningly in the direction of the other twin.  
  
"How did you-"he began irritation heavy in his tone.  
  
Drawing back the Sideswipe managed an effective shrug despite the fact he was in the form of a car.  
  
"The internet…"  
  
Grumbling Miles, or Milton as he was forever to be known, smacked the snickering bot again and resumed feeling around in his engine compartment. In attempt to curry favor or at least avoid such violence, the red twin cruised closer to the pair; his fender nudged the back of the human's knees as he began offering suggestions.  
  
"Right there. No a little to the left, his left…down…"  
  
Turning about Miles glared at the Lamborghini behind him. "Would you stop helping?"  
  
Despite the outburst, Sideswipe rumbled against him and continued chirping brightly as the teen finally found the smooth cog.  
  
It looked just like the other one that Ratchet had removed in half the time it had taken the human to find it. Sighing, the blond braced himself against Sunstreaker and leaned forward stretching his fingers toward the necessary component.  
  
A soft rumble rose from the vehicle and the gear in question shifted before his eyes.

 

He wouldn’t?!

 

Miles leapt away from the Lambo and smacked his head against the hood in his surprised flight. Pissed and injured he leaned over the  over the warm engine, rubbing a hand over his head.  
  
"God damn it. Would you just let me work?" he demanded.  
  
"Why, Milton, where is the fun in that?"  
  
Shoving up the sleeves of his jumpsuit Miles glared. "I'll show you fun."  
  
Rising slightly, Milton balanced himself on Sideswipe and reached back under the Autobot's hood. The sudden intrusion surprised the pair and they went silent watching Miles make good on his words.

 

Stripping off his gloves slowly, the human tossed them to the side. The engine wasn’t hot to the touch and he needed to get a feel for what he was working with. Carefully smoothing his hands over the components, he located the cog again. It was in there as right as rain, the piece fitting together inside Sunstreaker as neatly as anything.

 

Hr put his hands to the connections noting where his teacher would have had the right tools. He could make do with what he was given, smaller hands were certainly good for something.

 

The silver joints were cast in shadow as he moved, his hair falling from the confines of his rubberband. As he twisted the securing bolts and connections, the Lamborghini beneath him began vibrating; the purr of its engine rising in pitch.

 

Another distraction, one Miles ignored as he loosened the fastenings.  A bolt dropped and Miles caught it, tucking it away into his pocket before brushing his fingers over the recently vacated niche. Another connection and he’d have the cog out. He patted the part, marveling where it seemed to meld into the body under him.

 

Sunstreaker gave a soft whine and shook vigorously forcing the human to grab at his internal components for balance.  Worse than just being noisy the Autobot began sputtering loudly in his native tongue. Sideswipe laughed, practically bouncing on his shocks. His twin, however, growled unpleasantly in reply, at least until Miles put his hands back into the engine compartment.  
  
Leaning to examine the other side of the component, the blonde teen began to worry; his patient had suddenly gone eerily silent. Pressing his fingertips to the cog earned yet another shudder and a throaty rumble.

 

Surprised by the rather unusual response Miles stopped short and slid down off the car.

 

He’d never heard a bot make that noise before.  
  
Had he done something wrong? What if he'd done something to permanently damage the bot?  
  
Unsure of what else to do, he decided to take the previously ignored advice.  
  
"Uh Sideswipe?"  
  
More knowledgeable about the current situation, the still snickering mech responded by rolling forward, thrusting the human further under the hood.

 

This time Miles ducked.

 

The mech spoke calmly and quickly, directing the trembling teen.  
  
"Grab the clamp there, and cinch that cable. Yes, the one under your fingers."  
  
His tone was full of amusement as he spoke, his carbon copy, however, had yet to reclaim the ability to make coherent statements. Listening to him, the medical assistant almost stopped. Fortunately for the suffering mech, Sideswipe was able to soothe his fears.  
  
"Don't worry, he's just sensitive. You'd be too, if someone had their fingers inside you."  
  
Already carrying out the imparted instructions, Miles wanted to inform the bot what was so wrong with his statement but decided not. He didn't want to know if the inference was intentional or not.  
  
Sunstreaker rocked and hissed, as Miles moved, working the other connection from the rapidly warming engine. Crawling over the compartment, he moved closer squinting at the bits of metal and bundles of cables. He paused briefly, his fingertips trailing the edge of the piece.

 

Damnned, Sunstreaker groaned and sunk on his wheels. He didn't know it, but he was practically torturing the mech. Even now, during the process of being locked into his alternate form, his spark was pulsing. It was strange to have the little digits moving around in place only two bots had ever touched, it was also incredibly arousing.  
  
"Miles!"  
  
Jerking at the sound of his name, the blond lost his hold on the wrench and it skittered across the floor. Unsure of what else to do he swore loudly and resorted to using his fingers, twisting to remove the loosened bolt. Beads of sweat dripped down his head as the engine got even hotter; the rising heat was nearly scalding as Milton worked. Static leapt from his digits and palms rippling through his body, over his spine before grounding itself in the car supporting him. A faint glow rose from the purring engine, but Miles was so focused on his task he didn't notice, his advisor, on the other hand did.  
  
With a sudden pop, the final coupling came free; releasing the cog and a burst of pent-up energy along with it. The excess force knocked Miles back over Sideswipe and steam exploded from Sunstreaker's hood before it slammed shut. With a aborted gasp the yellow Lamborghini fell silent, but that minor miracle was ignored in favor of the still warm cog nestled between Milton's hands.  
  
Looking from it to the twin cars, Miles sighed, wiping moisture from his eyes; he was only to content to lay against the nicer twin, almost boneless from the unexpected exertion.  
  
"Not bad Miles." Sideswipe murmured lazily, amusement in his tone. "Not bad at all."  
  
121212121212  
  
Well out of earshot, Ratchet strode purposefully through the partitioned hanger. He pushed aside the suspended sheeting and moved to the far side of the room. The mech's footsteps echoed over the reinforced flooring as his time weary optics scanned the cavern walls that were younger than Bumblebee. For such a young species, humans were incredibly resilient, despite the situations they encountered.  
  
Steeling himself, the medic passed by the dusty corner that had come to serve as a hero's tomb.  Wrapped in heavy tarps lay the sparkless being that had once been an impeccable officer and an even better friend.  
  
Jazz.  
  
In the frantic moments after the mech's death and the subsequent trip to the hospital, there had been no time to mourn. Saving Samuel had been their top priority. Days following the battle, Ratchet almost wondered if his death had been worth it. Laying a hand briefly upon the scratched chassis he knew it had been. They had been so focused on protecting the All Spark, but their lieutenant had taken the fight to their enemies. Jazz had died distracting Megatron, his last act buying them the time they'd needed.  
  
Tearing his gaze from the body Ratchet looked to his hands. It always hurt to lose a comrade. With so few Autobots scattered along the galaxy every loss was devastating. The recently arrived security officer had essentially compounded that opinion into hard fact.  
  
Prowl had withdrawn from every attempt at interaction made by humans and this state, he was still effective as a tactician and an officer, but the light in his optics had begun to fade, his laughter was hollow, and his very spark had begun to flicker. As Jazz's living bond mate, this mourning was expected. It was a shame, that the Third-in-Command was mourning himself to death.  
  
There was no way to truly make up for the loss of one's bonded. Many a mech had tried to patch the voids within themselves. Sometimes it worked; if the bond was new there was a chance the surviving partner could recover. It was uncommon, something that happened under special circumstances or with time. Some bots, who'd lost their bonded, tried finding solace in their work, in combat or more often than not, in the arms of another.

 

Prowl, the CMO knew from experience, was not the type of mech to do such a thing. He could not seek comfort from another anymore than he could fly.  
  
If such solace was offered to him, he'd refuse, even if such mourning could only lead to his death. Prowl was strong, but not even he was that strong. His attitude, it was something that struck the medic hard. He'd seen first hand just how bad a survivor could pine. Ironhide himself had been on the verge of giving up when they had bonded.

 

That had been so long ago.  
  
Just after the loss of the All Spark, Ironhide had gotten the message. Her ship had been shot down on the edge of uncharted space. With his orders cut and the team moving out, there had been nothing he could do, so he mourned. He followed orders; he kept to himself and he had mourned.  
  
When he finally collapsed out of the blue, Ratchet had seen then, what he now saw in Prowl. Looking at the silent, motionless mech the medic had been left with no choice. He hadn't been unwilling to lose another comrade so he gave him a reason to live.  
  
It was a bittersweet memory to him now, looking over his fallen friend. Once a lively, musically inclined mech, he was a part of the Well of Sparks and it seemed his bond mate wasn't far behind. It was just another reason Ratchet hated war. The body of Jazz had been repaired to best of his ability. Even with an extra pair of hands he knew he couldn't have saved him.  
  
He felt no guilt, only remorse for a fallen friend and he wasn't the only one. Shaking his head sadly, the Hummer seized the protective sheeting and dragged it back over the body of his friend. Turning away he whispered the same promise he'd made to a lost bondmate as he first touched his spark to that of Ironhide's own.  
  
"Rest easy friend, I will watch over him until it is his time."  
  
121212121212  
  
Sam picked absently at a healing scab as Optimus spoke, the jack connecting the Prime to his wrist itched terribly. The mech was going on about something vaguely important, but to honest Sam wasn't really listening.

 

He hadn't been listening since last night, but he didn't want to think about that.  
  
He didn't want to think about the flak he'd been getting from his friends all morning, he didn't want to think about the call from Trent at nearly midnight and he really didn't want to think about-  
  
"-Bumblebee."  
  
The sudden name from Optimus's vocalizer snapped the boy from his thoughts and he looked up suddenly meeting the blue optics for a moment before turning away.  
"Do you understand Samuel?"  
  
In one word.  
  
No.  
  
He didn't know what he was supposed to be doing, what was happening to him or why he had even bothered to get out of bed. Sam wasn't interested in the history of the All Spark or the accompanying lesson.  
  
He just wanted to be alone. From his place seated in alien's hand he considered telling Optimus that he hadn't been listening and to just buzz off. In the end, however, he settled for lying to the mech instead, he really wasn't in the mood to do much else.  
  
"Yeah, I got it."  
  
Watching him carefully Prime began to speak again, concern set in the interlocking sections of metal that made up his face.  
  
"Are you sure Sam? This is something that has never been attempted. Your life could very well be put in danger."  
Pushing the sweater's hood from his face the teen gave the Autobot a look.  
  
"Again" The big bot corrected himself before beginning once more.  
  
"Samuel, before time began, there was... the Cube. We know not where it came from, only that it held the power to create worlds and fill them with life. That is how our race was born. "  
  
"I know that." The teen spoke up again staring off into space.  
  
Optimus smothered a long-suffering sigh and continued lifting the young male to optic level.  
"What you do not know, what we have come to understand, is that as embodiment of the All Spark, you have come to bear certain qualities."  
  
This time he was silent considering the Autobot's words. Part of him wasn't sure if he even wanted to know what the aforementioned qualities could be. Optimus, however, wasn't done.  
"Your new abilities which are as of yet untested are what the Decepticons attempted to use."  
  
The statement brought up sudden memories to Witwicky's mind, pain, light, fear, and pleasure. He shuddered at the thought of red eyes watching him in the darkness. He was going to have nightmares about that that for a long time.  
  
"They tried to use me to raise an army, is that it?"  
  
He'd dealt with worse than aliens trying to use him for their own means. He was sure he could handle himself. The Supreme Commander's next words however were not what he expected.  
  
"It's much worse than that. They're trying to use you because you now bear a receptive spark."  
  
"What? How?" Sputtering Sam turned to Optimus, confusion in his features. There was something else the bot hadn't told him.  
  
"The All Spark has given you the ability to commune directly with the Well of Sparks."  
  
The Well of Sparks it was the supposed source of Cybertronian existence that from which all Autobots and Decepticons came. The traditionally held belief was that within the Matrix existed every Spark that ever was, and every Spark that ever would be. The fact he was now a gateway to some sort of alien Valhalla stunned the teen into silence.  
  
"Megatron knows what has happened and Decepticons will not rest until that power is under his control."  
  
"Oh."  
  
The not so subtle change in the teen's tone marked his reluctance to remain on the subject. He wasn't averse to the idea of a higher plane of existence or anything of the sort; he just didn't want to talk about it anymore. There were just some things that struck too close to home. Optimus moved again, the whir of components and gears loud as he shifted.  
  
"There is something else." From the way he spoke, his tone gentle but firm to the apologetic look in his optics Sam knew what he was going to say.  
  
He knew and he didn't want to hear it again.  
  
He couldn't.  
  
The memory was still too fresh. The pain and regret of what he'd done. Nestled in the care of the Autobot commander, Sam's mind flickered to the night before and the biggest mistake he'd made in his short life.  
  
The Camaro's engine had rumbled softly as he'd carried his charge to a less crowded corner of the base. Sam asked for privacy and the sixteen-foot alien had immediately moved to fulfill his request. Bumblebee drove slowly through the second hanger, where Megatron had once resided.  
  
It was blissfully empty, probably on the account it was still highly restricted.  
  
Neither paid much attention to the big bright warning signs, it wasn't as if any human could stop them even if they'd wanted to. They hadn't had time for themselves in ages, this moment was for them.  
  
As they'd eased into the laboratory, Bumblebee's one time prison, the teen remained silent. Some things were more important than shooting old ghosts.  
  
Things, like whatever it was, developing between them  
  
Sam took a breath and glanced down at his guardian. There was something, feelings that weren't quite so subtle. Things had just naturally progressed to that point and it wasn't even a secret. When Trent DeMarco had noticed that he was dancing around his feelings, there needed to be a relationship reevaluation. Sam had sighed, softly tracing the black lines on Bee's dusty hood.  
  
He had been scared, but he had to come clean.  
  
His last heart to heart with Miles had revealed a few things about his relationship with his car and that last lip to lip session with Mikaela had served to underscore those revelations.  
  
He was in love.  
  
Sliding down as the alien rolled to a stop, Sam made himself comfortable on a bit of plastic sheeting draped over the large table. He refused to turn around, almost afraid of what he could find and Bumblebee only had optics for him. There, in the cool, empty corner of Hoover Dam; Samuel Witwicky was ready to profess his love for his best friend.  
  
If only he could find the words.  
  
Seated before him with legs folded the repaired bot spoke up, well he just activated his radio.

 _"Talk. Talk. Talk. Talktome-"_ _  
_  
It was supposed to be reassuring, but Sam had only stared at his shoes with a shy look on his face. He was so thankful that the oversized Ipod of a vehicle had cut the song where he did. Sam was sure he would have died if he'd played the rest. A soft chirp by the once voiceless being and Sam had jumped, his eyes meeting the Autobot's in an instant.  
  
"Things have been different as of late," Sam began slowly rubbing his hands together, "with everything." He looked up, his brows creasing as he tried to find the right words.  
  
"And I've been thinking a lot about us."  
  
No response came, but he didn't need one.  
  
Not yet.  
  
Sam had been so focused on what he was trying to say, rather than any potential replies at the moment.  
  
He'd worried about reactions later.  
  
"When we're together and even when we're apart, I think about you. And this has gone on for a while now. "In that time I've come to understand that I feel a certain way about you."  
  
Bumblebee didn't move, but his radio burst to life, a familiar chorus echoing over the pair.

 

 _"Don't speak;I know what you're saying.So please stop explaining-_ "  
  
"No Bee, I don't think you do." Sam had interjected, cutting the musical interlude short.  
  
It was not the time for it.

 

If only Bee would listen to what he had to say.  
  
Staring up at the bigger bot, it suddenly occurred to him what he needed to do. If he wanted to let Bee know how he felt he had to do it his way.  
  
To his sudden surprise and joy the right words bubbled up inside and he almost laughed.  
  
Sliding from his perch, Sam claimed the Autobot's massive hand between his and took a deep breath. Bumblebee watched him curiously but did not intrude, it was a solemn moment. He'd tipped back his head and addressed the brilliant mech that doubled as his guardian. His voice was soft and steady even thought the rest of him was not. Shutting his eyes he began, summoning all the courage he possessed.  
  
"Wise men say-"  
  
Almost instantly the Camaro joined him, the bright vocals of some pop group matching his words as he half spoke, half sung. "Only fools rush in….."  
  
Peering back up at Bee, Samuel finally said what he'd been trying to say all along and he did it in song.  
  
"But I can't help falling in love with you."  
  
As soon as the words left his mouth he felt it a sudden release and he smiled, it was almost as if some weight on his shoulders was suddenly gone. He'd done it he'd given the bot non-committal declaration of his romantic feelings for his car. He'd just professed his love. The reality seemed to catch him and he stared at the still and silent alien scout.  
  
All at once the young bot moved slowly and wrapped his hand about the teen, drawing him closer, but leaving him on his feet. It was something he'd done before just when he wanted the teen close. This time however, the action itself had more meaning.  
  
Bumblebee?"  
  
"I know Sam." The bright optics flickered and the teen stared in confusion. "I've known for quite some time.  
  
"But how?"  
  
The darkened faceplates moved slowly as the Autobot leaned closer, the glow of his eyes matching the intensity of Sam's. Tipping his head the scout continued as his doorwings fluttered.

 

"We Cybertronians may be different from your kind, but that does not mean we do not bear similarities. I am well acquainted with the concept of love. I could not help falling in love with you either."  
  
The statement didn't seem to satisfy the boy as he continued to babble confusedly.  
  
"When?  
  
With the bot humming under his palms, Sam was not surprised by the sudden volume of the radio.  
  
" _Love at first feel, lightning bolts in my fingertips. Love at first feel_ "  
  
As the strains of the chorus faded, the teen brushed his fingers over the warm armor as he smiled softly.  
  
"Why didn't you say anything Bee?"

 

Again the mech resorted to music, it seemed that even with his voice words weren’t his forte.  
  
_"There is so much a man can tell you, So much he can say. You remain my power, my pleasure, my pain, baby. To me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny. Won't you tell me is that healthy, baby?_ "  
  
The sentiment expressed from the song was not quite what he'd expected, but it was a start and that was good. Reaching up he laid his palm over the silver plates making up the mech's face.

 

They were smooth and warm, Bumblebee rumbled at the contact and the teen reveled in the intimacy of their newfound understanding. Just as suddenly as it had begun the moment was over and the Autobot was setting him back on his feet.  
  
Slowly the scout moved away, his fingers brushing the curve of the teen's spine. The action though gentle and meant to reassure only worried Sam more. Flickering in the cold and empty room that alien gaze looked through him and a sad chirp slipped from the bot's recently repaired vocalizer.  
  
"Forgive me Sam."  
  
Staring back the young man shook his head, confusion dancing across his features.  
  
"For what?"  
  
The metal fingers stilled as the radio cut in. It was ill timed, but it had become more than just a way for the Autobot to communicate. The use of various collections of tones and lyrics had become the Cybertronian's shield.  
  
" _Blank stares at blank pages, no easy way to say this. You mean well, but you make this hard on me."_  
  
"Bumblebee?"  
  
This time the young savior sounded scared. Clinging to the large digits cradling him he waited for an answer.  
  
"You are the All Spark; a direct connection to the Well of All Sparks, the beginning and ending of Cybertronian life."  
  
While informative the reply was not the answer the human was looking for. Leaning closer to his guardian he tried again hoping the mech would get the hint and tell him what he wanted to say. "Bee?"  
  
"I cannot be with you."  
  
With that soft vocalization time seemed to stop. Sam stared back. It had not been what he'd expected. Slumping within the alien grip, he tried to figure out what he had been expecting. Heedless of his internal deliberation the mech continued. "I wish to be, but I cannot."  
  
The Autobot's words though soft and sincere, had cut his charge to the core. The young human wobbled on his perch as the reality of the statement weighed upon him. Curling his fingers, the solemn teen tried to speak, tried to scream, tried to cry. Supported by the one person who he'd thought would never hurt him, the young man tried in vain to let out his conflicting emotions. Shutting his eyes he looked away, as a painful sob worked its way from his throat.

 

"Why?"  
  
Unable to answer the sorrowful tone, the bot turned back to his musically inclined habits.  
  
" _With a taste of your lips I'm on a ride. You're toxic I'm slipping under. With a taste of a poison paradise_ _  
_ _  
_ _I'm addicted to you. Don't you know that you're—_ "  
  
"Stop!"  
  
The shout silenced the repetitive tune and mindless vocals as the frazzled teen began.  
  
"I don't want to hear that. "  
  
Bowing his head, he shook heedless of the pain in his companion's eyes.  
  
"I just want to know the truth."  
  
The crisp clear tones of the affronted mech echoed in the cold sterile room as he finally spoke.  
  
"To be with you the way you want me to be, the way I want to be will ultimately end both our lives."  
  
Sam stepped back, almost imperceptibly, but to Bumblebee it was clear as day. The last thing he'd wanted to do was hurt Sam, and he'd done a spectacular job of avoiding it. He leaned closer, seeking to sooth his charge, but the teen was having none of it.  
  
Stepping back away he gripped his arms, looking everywhere except at the transformed Camaro.  
  
"Why did you tell me?"  
  
Staring down at him the mech drew back his tone rife with uncertainty and fear.  
  
"It would have been cruel to deny your feelings outright. I wanted you to know the truth. I wanted you to know that I love you."  
  
Bumblebee's cerulean optics were briefly met by Sam's tear-filled eyes. Reaching towards him once more the mech confessed the secret he'd been holding back.  
  
"I can accept being just your guardian for the rest of our lives knowing you feel the same way."  
  
The heart wrenching declaration of the mech urged the teen forward, tears finally making slow paths down his cheeks. Laying his hand over the larger one, he too had a confession to make.  
  
"That's the difference between us Bumblebee. I can't."  
  
Looking away once more the teen uttered the hardest words he'd ever have to say.  
  
"I wish I'd never said anything at all."

  
  
As soon as those fateful words had left his mouth, he'd regretted them. Even so he couldn't move as his guardian had whirled, twisting into his alternate mode. The bright Camaro slipped into reverse passed the large doors and cut a sharp turn speeding away from the very person he'd sworn to protect.  
  
Sam hadn't seen him since.  
  
Energy flickered through his wrist, snapping him back to reality or at least a perception of it. Nothing seemed to matter as ripples of light danced before his eyes. Staring off into a brightening glow, he could barely hear the authoritative voice of Prime calling to him. The brief warning however was ignored in favor of the gold and silver trails spiraling through the room. Half-lidded and lost in a state between dreaming and reality, the young heartsick avatar reached for the only constant left to him.  
  
An answering pulse responded to his call bursting to life as his fingertips brushed it. Sudden fear and pain exploded within him as the dark burns along his arm blazed with molten silver. Curling his hands about the fluttering spark, he held on and all else faded. A horror-filled scream escaped Sam's lips as the brilliant glow began to burn taking him along with it.  
  
Cradling the wailing youth, Optimus turned to meet the gaze of his medical officer who had no answer to give. Staring at the last helplessly at the organic that was the last hope for his kind the Autobot offered a prayer to Primus before warnings flared across his HUD and he too began to fall.

 


	13. Gate Way

* * *

Please let me know what you think, and what you'd like to see more of..  
I rather appreciate all the comments critiques and criticisms. There's another list of people to thank for this chapter. Lovely special people who put up with my random attempts at plot and prose. This chapter could not have been complete without the help of:  
lemonflav_lopfe, dania99, dragoona, technodoofus, naggingfishwife,azardarkstar and anyone else I might be forgetting,

Without further ado enjoy..  
(This one's also a long chapter)

So here it goes. This is the re-edited version of Sparks. Thanks to gracesolo for all of the wonderful beta work, hand holding and laughter. You're my hero hon!

7-22-17  
Still taking a crack at getting the rest of this out! Wish me luck!

* * *

 

1313131313131

Sparks: 13 Gate Way

1313131313131

 

The hanger was shrouded in darkness. The massive form of Optimus Prime dropped to bended knee as bright hot energy licked over him. Residual power from the All Spark burned through him, bringing his circuits terribly alive with it’s incredible power. It was beautiful and devastating, something that was not meant to be channeled through any one being.

Sam was limp, the glyphs of an ancient planet burnt into his flesh, flickered with that energy; his half-lidded eyes glowed with the light of Cybertron. Bearing the pain as he cradling the form of the All Spark, Optimus looked to his oldest friend.

Blue optics watched worriedly as Prime offered the young man up to the capable hands of the closet bot. The smaller green figure, one of his people who hadn't even been born on Cybertron itself accepted the boy gently, stepping back as Ratchet pulled free the cable that attached them. Prime shuddered and leaned, his hand barely keeping him upright.

"Ratchet." He whispered, his HUD alight with warnings and errors, all of which indicated his forthcoming stasis. The overwhelming power rippled along him, unlike any born of mortal hand coursed through his systems, burning away his self-repair protocols, leaving him weak. Prime faltered, his head dipping as the energy touched his spark.

The medic caught his shoulder, holding it firmly as his Commander's optics began to dim. "Leave him to me." He hissed.

And Prime knew no more.

Hoover Dam was silent and dark in the moments after Optimus' fall.

Scanning the prone form, Ratchet lowered him to the floor, ignoring the protesting creaks of his own joints. Growling faintly the CMO kneeled beside Prime.

He was more worried than frustrated at the addendum to his job description. He was a medic after all. Even so he had not been programmed for catching falling Primes, despite that fact it was becoming a frequent occurrence.

Beside him, Dewbot, Earthborn Cybertronian peered at him silently, it's odd optics glowing in the darkness. It lifted Sam for his inspection, the teen unconscious again. The brilliant light, which had previously illuminated the darkened hangar, had faded to the dull glow rising from his flesh. Such a phenomenon was reminiscent of a so-called " possession", but such things were impossible; at least they should have been. The All Spark had never exhibited such qualities before, but then it had never been an extension of an organic lifeform before either.

Pressing a hand to his superior officer's chest, Ratchet resisted the urge to sigh. Something had happened to Sam and whatever it was, it had spread to Optimus. As he watched the energy rolled across the prone form, the very air surrounding them filled with static. It was like nothing he'd ever seen in his extensive existence.

Still he had work to do.

As he instructed the smaller Bot to lay down his charge, emergency power kicked in, casting the room in low light. Scowling, the Hummer moved closer reaching for the uplink cable concealed within his frame. He was going to find out what happened to offline both Prime and Witwicky, he had to, for both their sakes.

He was not going to lose another comrade, even if to he had to kill himself to do it.

Certainly it wouldn’t come to that.

Surely.

1313131313131

Morning came sooner than Trent DeMarco expected. He’d only slept for only four hours. Still old habits were hard to break as the jock found himself staring up at the ceiling, watching the faint shadows of trees moving in the wind. It was quiet, too quiet. After spending a week in an underground barracks of the secret facility, the stillness of his room was unfamiliar.

It was almost frightening in a way.

This unfamiliarity.

Aliens were intent on taking over the planet and for what? Their own little artifact of power had been destroyed or at least twisted into something else. It was then his thoughts took another unexpected turn, what that alien artifact really was.

Or rather who it really was.

Witwicky was a scrawny little mutt who had always been at the very bottom of the social ladder.  
Trent had never really talked to him before. Unsurprisingly, the fact they now had something in common fostered a sort of relationship neither of them saw coming. That guy, he had a rough.

Before this Sam had been convinced his life was normal and boring. Then, his entire world had come crashing down around him due to something his family had gotten involved in so long ago. Something that was so far beyond his control it wasn't even funny.

Family.

God, he hated it. Family was a simple three syllable word that caused him unending torment on a regular basis.

Family or rather his family. They were supposed to be loving, caring and supportive. The people you could count on. Instead they'd only ever brought him painful memories of counselors, therapists and yelling; lots and lots of yelling.

So much for family.

Rolling over in his bed, Trent pushed the thoughts away. It was not the time for him to be having some stupid little pity party. He had practice to prepare for and a few excuses to make up for the coach. He wasn't the star of the football team for nothing. And he'd do whatever it took to stay on top.

Sliding to his feet, DeMarco moved to the windows and parted the shade, bathing his nearly naked form with sunlight. The sky was cloudless, but his blue-green eyes were focused much lower on the street, on the blue form of his Alien Car. Chromia hadn't moved from the spot she'd parked in the night before, but he wasn't surprised.

He was getting used to the whole having a sentient car, but he knew she was a soldier in an intergalactic war. A war, that was rapidly affecting his world and the people in it, himself included.

A week ago, he never would have believed anything like it.

But a part of it he was, for better or for worse.

Witwicky, Lancaster; they were not his favorite people, but the one thing Trent DeMarco knew better than anyone else was how to be a team player. He would get along with them and with his ex, all for the sake of the person that mattered more than anyone else. If Chromia could put up with her former bond-mate and his new squeeze, he could easily suck it up and play nice with rest of the team.

He'd do it for her.

The feminine, yet tough robot in disguise parked on the street

Sparing another glance at his Car, DeMarco stepped back from the window, moving to his dresser. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair as he reminded himself of his most basic philosophy. All metaphorical thought was on hold until after coffee, but first he was getting clothes.

Sliding into a pair of his favored jeans, the jock crossed his room and claimed a shirt from the clothes basket. As he moved, something odd caught his eye from across the room. Set on a low shelf of his entertainment center, amid his remotes, under a few DVD's; his game console was buzzing.

Tapping it with a finger, he was hardly surprised as it began to unfold. He waited there, fabric still clenched in his hand to see if it was friend or foe.

The black console moved forward from its spot rising to spindly feet, red eyes glowing as it moved closer, claws outstretched. His sudden screams broke the silence and Trent knew, as the metal touched his skin; that he was not making it to practice.

1313131313131.

Silent systems flickered to life at the first signs of a signal, moments later the long silent form of Frenzy was online.

Snarling and clawing the unfamiliar walls, he tried in vain to reach the source of that power. His prison was no longer the dark silent hole his stupid captors had put him, in but a reinforced tank of near frozen liquid that he was too sluggish to analyze properly.

Blue optics took in the scene about him, his specialized scans filtering out the hazy nature of the frozen tank and the red glow of emergency lighting. Shifting in the gel like substance, the little con was aware of three things. The power that had encouraged his awareness, the All Spark, the geographic coordinates of his current location and the fact he was no longer alone.

Screeching loudly, Frenzy took advantage of the lull in the security system; a direct effect of the All Spark, to call to the silent restrained Mech across the room. He had panic to sow, but he could not do it while trapped. He had to achieve freedom and for that he needed help. There was reason cassettes worked with partners.

Cracking his neck, the silver con logged into the base databanks confirming his original partner was indeed still alive. An odd smile reached his features as the he skimmed the system and watched the massive Tactician before him squirm. The lumbering wreck of Bonecrusher shuddered violently as an energy-induced spasm rocked its frame. The welded plates of his armor were a stark contrast to the sickeningly organic color his plate now bore.

Bonecrusher moved. A baleful, red optic regarding the smaller Decepticon under glass, as his self-repair systems drew from the power. The second optic, practically ruined by Prime, sparked occasionally from its gouged socket. Lifting his great pumpkin shaped head the angry Mech scowled at Frenzy.

"The All Spark."

"Of course the All Spark. Did you think it was Prime?"

The recently resurrected Mech roared in anger, hauling on the cables that held him firm. He was more than angry, he was livid, and he was enraged. A cable restraining his arms snapped and Frenzy had to scramble through Sector Seven's system to disengage the alarms and the cameras.

Being taken offline by pathetic, insignificant fleshlings was humiliating, but to be trussed up like some lab experiment was more than even the lowliest Decepticon could bear. Another furious roar rose from the restrained Mech before the significantly smarter Frenzy was able to shut him up. "If you want your freedom, you misaligned scorched scrap heap, you'll do as say!"

Growling much more softly the angered Mech turned on the snarling hacker. "And what makes you think I'll listen to you?"

"The same thing that first made you follow Megatron's orders, the chance to kill Autobots."

Falling silent for the first time since he'd awaken, Bonecrusher turned on Frenzy, his optics glowing in the dark, his claws making harsh sounds against the raised table upon which he was affixed.

"I'm listening."

  
1313131313131

 

In the weird echoing silence of the Hoover Dam motor pool, Reginald Simmons noted something out of the ordinary. Something that was very out of place in the darkened garage. Signaling the driver to let him off, he approached a familiar car in a parking space where it really didn't belong.

Clearing his throat the man addressed Autobot, nodding if only to respect the truce between their species.

"Morning?" he greeted, an uneasiness creeping through his body.

He wasn't afraid, so much as wary of the Non Biological Entity. In truth he really didn't care for its particular attitude, but that was unimportant. The history they shared was more than enough to ensure the peace between them was civil. Even so, the Autobot did not deign to respond to his question.

Rolling his eyes, Simmons wasn't surprised. The particular Mechanoid before him also had a penchant for being fickle; he blamed it on the indulgent nature of the Alien's so-called owner. A quick glance confirmed the lack of the aforementioned teen. Inquiry on the subject brought neither movement nor verbal reply from the yellow prototype Camaro.

"Just what are you doing here?"

No lights, no movement, not even a burst of music from the radio.

It was being stubborn.

Staring back he knew he'd have to be just as stubborn. Foregoing the usual methods of interrogation, Simmons tried again, this time using the direct approach. While he could be a patient man, he was not about to compromise, especially if the Autobot was not about to do the same.

The fact that N.B.E Bumblebee did not respond was a curious occurrence. Especially since irritating the Director of Field Operations seemed to be one of its favored pastimes.

It didn't move nor did it respond.

A single fluorescent light bulb flickered overhead, casting shadows over the pair. "Going to be difficult? Fine. I'll just take this opportunity to remind you of some of the regulations that you've obviously forgotten."

From the idling vehicle behind Reginald Simmons, three field agents watched him curiously. It was one thing to have a conversation with an Autobot. Their superior, however, seemed more concerned with dressing down the yellow Camaro, than actually listening to it. The alien disguised as a car usually dominated any conversation with their kind. Something was going on, and they had absolutely no clue what it was, not that it mattered. They weren't getting paid to find out.

Taking a step closer the man began again, pulling the sunglasses from his face.

"As mandated by the Human Autobot Liaison Treaty, you must report any situation that would prevent you from guarding your charge.. Its standard practice, I'm disappointed. I would have thought a soldier such as you would hold your duty in higher regard."

It was those condescending words that finally garnered a reaction from the Camaro. Just before the man bright headlights flickered in the underground garage.

It seemed the Autobot was listening after all.

"Don't give me that." Simmons replied sharply.

Folding the glasses, the suited man tucked them into a pocket before continuing.

"I know for a fact that you've reported no such thing. If you had, another one of your unit would be assigned to the boy and the substitution form would have been forwarded to me already. So from the fact that nothing has happened I can only assume you withheld something and that there's a reason you've done so. You do have reason, don't you?"

Taking another step forward Simmons folded his hands behind his back scrutinizing the Bot. They stood in silence watching one another, shadows playing across their forms, one thinking as the other waited. After what seemed like an eternity, the yellow Autobot's engine rumbled softly. Turning briefly he waved away the waiting car before turning to his attention back to N.B.E Bumblebee, the current focus of his anger and frustration. With a half salute, the diver pulled off, searching for a much quieter place to park

"Even so, there is no excuse for what you've done."

Rumbling again, the Camaro responded angrily, its radio crackling with static. "I have done nothing to warrant such an interrogation, Agent Simmons."

The man moved almost touching the hood off the Autobot with his knees. He spoke again. his voice rising as he got to the point of the conversation.

"Really that's strange. You must have done something to warrant secluding yourself down here, bearing a self-inflicted punishment of rusting in a parking space you obviously don't need. Have you got the picture or do you need me to reword my statement?"

The Camaro, however, was no longer willing to accept such scorn. Rolling forward, N.B.E Bumblebee nudged the human backwards as he transformed. Bracing his hands on the smooth black pavement, the scout leaned over the man invading the personal space in retaliation.

"Just what do you intend to accomplish Agent Simmons? Is your intent to test the limits of my patience? As eternal as it seems I assure you it is nowhere near as infinite as that of Optimus Prime's"

Weathering the abrupt diatribe, Simmons flushed, and was sure he heard the sound of grinding gears. It was a not so subtle hint that he should leave well enough alone. Not that he would, it was just another bad habit his mother hadn't managed to knock out of him in his formative years.

"I'm giving you a reality check." He replied, lips thinned in a grimace

The look of confusion that passed over the robotic figure's face was reminiscent of his own the moment Witwicky had uttered the true name of N.B.E 1. Despite the expression, Simmons was not one to anything go easily.

Rudely rapping the Mech on the chest plates, he tried again, tact notwithstanding. "Whether you want it or not."

"Want what?"

Momentarily stunned by the innocent statement, Reginald final realized what he'd been missing since the conversation started. "Christ… You don't even know what you did, do you?"

Cerulean optics stared back and the irritating Cybertronian leaned closer to look the man in the eyes. His anger had all but faded in the midst of the miscommunication. A low almost curious sound rose from the Camaro engine and Simmons stared. The radio crackled for an instant before the Autobot spoke again his voice practically pleading.

"Tell me."

Releasing the breath he hadn't known he was holding, the human fingered the cross at his throat and began.

"Last night-"

The Mech tensed perceptibly, the light of its inhuman eyes illuminating Reggie's black shoes. It didn't, however, ask him to stop, so he kept going.

"I saw what happened. You left him and he cried."

"You were watching us?" The scout seemed almost incredulous.

"I was monitoring."

"How dare you…"

The Camaro rumbled threateningly, his finger reaching for the government agent. The man took a single step back, raising a hand to the affronted Mech.

"I was doing my job. Now why aren't you?"

N.B.E Bumblebee stopped fully, his massive hands dropping to the pavement as the weight of the human's words took their toll.

Why wasn't he?

Simmons, however, wasn't done.

"You hurt him, that's not something you're supposed to do to people who love you. I don't give a damn what planet you're from. It is not ok.

You are his guardian. You are his friend.. The pair of you have spent just about every waking moment together and more than a few sleeping ones. One would almost get the feeling that you two were in love with each other, but that's not the point."

Pausing for breath, Reggie tapped the Autobot's faceplate, the bright eyes flickered for an instant but the gaze never wavered.

"Listen, whatever you have with the kid, despite my personal opinion, seems like a good thing. You balance each other and you generally make each other happy."

"Just what is your personal opinion, Agent Simmons?"

Staring back at him, the man stopped fingering the silver cross about his neck to answer.

"That you're the biggest cradle robber this side of the galaxy, but then again ain't my choice. It's yours and his. Anyone with half a brain can see how Witwicky feels. Only question is, 'what you're going to do about it'.

Sinking back on his struts Bumblebee considered the statement, comparing it with what he'd already done. He hurt Sam once and by Primus, he was not about to do it again. With new resolve the transformed Camaro nodded, his optics shining with new resolve. Extending a finger to the smaller, yet oddly sensible, human he took the moment to say the most important thing on his mind.

"Agent Simmons,"

"Yeah sport?"

"We are no longer alone."

Turning suddenly, the strange little man was treated to the sight of red eyes glowing back at him from the darkness.

"God damn it."

1313131313131

A single compressed signal ghosted across the Autobot's Emergency frequency, jerking the Cybertronian Medic from his work. The thirty foot Mech beneath his hands didn't move, didn't twitch as a low growl of anger issued forth from his processors. Convinced that his patient was stable, the Hummer rose to his feet, disconnecting his cabling from Optimus. Drafting the bright vending machine at his side to keep vigil over the prone figures, Ratchet moved purposefully stalking back into the hanger designated as a medical bay.

Needless to say, he was not pleased with what he encountered.

Faint energy rose from Sunstreaker's golden alternate mode, as the human teen reclined on his brother. There was no mistaking that particular resonance. It was the sort of energy that had no business being on any human.

"What in the name of Primus happened here?"

The inquiry, coupled with the headlights flashing in the previously silent hanger jerked Miles from his nap upon Sideswipe's hood.

Wiping sleep from his eyes the teen slid down, looking from the Medic and the Twins, the cool transformation cog still clutched against his chest.

"I got it out, though Sunstreaker wasn't being any help." He announced proudly.

"I can see that, not bad" the Mech replied examining the trio. Closing the distance Ratchet turned to the yellow warrior reaching for a wrench.

"I want an explanation."

Sunstreaker rocked on his tires before addressing the Medic. "It's just as he said."

Ratchet snorted in reply waving the silver tool threateningly.

"Try again, there's no mistaking the residual energy that you're emitting."

"What energy?" Confused Miles looked back, shifting the cog in his hands as Ratchet stared at Sunstreaker.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Drawing back the Autobot rumbled softly, his inflections taking a scornful tone as spoke again.

"What can I say? Your assistant, he's terrible."

Snapping to attention, Miles nearly dropped the grooved component to the floor. "What?"

The signal came again and Ratchet frowned. One of their own was in need of aid and he still had no leads on Optimus' condition, even worse, the Twins were the only ones who could help.

"We don't have time for this!"

More concerned with the matter at hand, Ratchet turned back to less vocal sibling, his massive fingers seizing the part from his protégé's hands as he moved toward Sideswipe.

Stumbling back out of the way as the twin rumbled, Miles wiped his hands on his pants and watched as the chartreuse Medic replaced the integral part of the red Lamborghini's anatomy.

The Hummer paused briefly as his optics caught sight of his student peering into under the Mech's hood as he replaced the cog. He'd been wrong he realized shutting Sideswipe's hood, he had more than just the twins. "Sideswipe, you've got that signal? They need help and you're the fastest."

Sunstreaker vehemently protested Ratchet's statement, but was ignored in favor of Sideswipe's confirmation. Starting his engine he turned, moving for the door. Ratchet, however, wasn't finished. "Take Miles with you."

"What?" Miles blurted, staring up at his instructor.

"Are you serious?" Sideswipe asked, almost as surprised as the human.

"You have got to be kidding!" The dumbfounded blond was not the only to protest the sudden change in plans.

"There is no way!"

Leaning forward the Hummer focused on the teen as he gave him a reality check. "You're going." He insisted.

"But I'm not ready." The teen replied.

"You know the Mechanics."

"That's not even funny!

"I'm being serious."

"Why can't you go?" By this time, the human was practically whining.

"I'm not leaving Sam or Optimus. Go, Miles."

"I can't do this!"

"You haven't even tried."

Stopping short Miles stared back as the full weight of the Medic's statement hit him. Ratchet continued, putting a large hand to the human's shoulder. "You want a chance? Go. They need help and I am certain that you can do it. You’re our only hope."

Shifting nervously the blond bit his lip. "Is this foray into pop culture supposed to boost my confidence?"

Shoving a toolbox into his protégé's hands, Ratchet smiled humorlessly.

"No. It’s supposed to get you moving."

"Fair enough," The young man replied slipping into the idling Lamborghini as he reached for the seat belt.

Satisfied Ratchet turned as Sideswipe drove off, crossing the hanger to retrieve the remaining Transformation cog. Yanking up the yellow hood Ratchet ignored his patient's threats against ruined paint. Laying a firm hand over the rumbling engine he addressed his patient. "On this planet, it's considered a crime."

Shifting on his wheels Sunstreaker deigned to respond. "What exactly is considered a crime?"

"What you’ve done is assault, involving another person in such an act without their consent."

"I didn't hear him complaining." Streaker mused.

"He had no idea what he was doing." Ratchet confirmed with disgust.

"A pity. He's got good hands."

"It’s still a crime as well as a civil assault. What you’ve done will have lasting repercussions on the relationships of all Cybertronians and humans on this planet.

"Guess it’s lucky we aren't natives."

"Sunstreaker." Ratchet growled, twisting the piece into place

"What's the harm?" The bot wondered with a twitch, his innards were still sensitive.

"You'd never do such a thing to another of our kind."

"They're an inferior species."

"They are our allies and inhabitants of this planet upon which we now reside."

"That's not my problem."

Slamming both hands to either side of the petulant Mech, Ratchet loomed over him growling. "It will be."

Rumbling threateningly Sunstreaker was unwilling to back down.

The medic however was far from finished. "Do not court him without declaring intent."

Reacting violently the Lamborghini transformed suddenly rising to meet the Hummer optic to optic. "I would never do something so base!" He howled almost reaching for his weapon.

"Then stop trying."

The words hit harder than any blow from the Autobot Medic ever could.

Scowling Sunstreaker shifted back into his alternate mode, pulling away from his elder. Even so, Ratchet wasn't finished.

"You will, when this is over, apologize to him and you'd best pray to Primus that he forgives you."

  
1313131313131

Mikaela leaned back and avoided the broad swing aimed at her torso before kicking at her opponent. The man, prepared for the blow, caught her boot-clad ankle and pushed it away giving her a brief moment to catch her balance before launching into another attack. Spinning as she moved away, the teen sidestepped this strike before attacking the man once more

The intended strike fell short of it's destination as the soldier turned, his hand catching her extended arm and pushing her off balance. Turning as she slipped, the dark-haired beauty managed to keep herself from face planting in the wet grass as the ground shook violently. Nodding with approval William Lennox moved closer to the young woman as birds took flight from a tree nearby.

The brisk wind picked up, rustling the untrampled grass and the tow cable hanging from the white Autobot. Before him, Ironhide shifted his stance, extending his arm beckoning his opponent forward. Watching carefully, the smaller truck didn't move as he considered his options. From a safe distance, the humans stared up at the alien pair as sunlight glinted off their colossal forms, casting long shadows over the house and lawn.

Without warning, the Earthborn Mech charged the Weapons specialist striking once with an open palm to the chest plate. Long Arm, from the recent practice was fast enough to dodge the returned blow and block the second. Crouching suddenly the Mech, laid his hand on his instructor's torso in what easily could have been a debilitating blow. .

Satisfied with the progress, Ironhide settled for seizing the extended limb, twisting it back on its joint and propelling his student back across the open field. The resulting crash shook the nearby house on its foundations and nearly felled an old oak tree. Rising from the damaged terrain, the pickup shook off the blow and moved closer, ready to make a second attempt.

Chuckling Ironhide gestured again and the fight continued. For what the white bot lacked in skill, he made up for in enthusiasm, gripping his opponent's black hands as they clashed again. It wasn't terribly graceful, but it couldn't be, not with the particular terrain or even the gravity. Even so Ironhide was dead set on teaching his companion the basics of Cybertronian combat.

Settled on the warm wood of the porch, Mikaela pushed back her hair and watched the exchange of blows. It was one thing to watch a robotic death match against Decepticons, but totally another to see the Bots practice.

Her unofficial partner, Long Arm, a Mech born of the All Spark during the Battle for Mission City, wasn't doing so badly against Ironhide. The Topkick even seemed pleased sparring with the former piece of Earth technology, just as Will had been with her.

Not that she was surprised. Long Arm was good-natured, sweet although clumsy, but he'd already proven himself as an ally and friend. He hadn't however, claimed himself a member of their faction and didn't seem like he would anytime soon.

A fact, which baffled not only the younger Autobots, but also the team's weapons specialist.

Ratchet had nothing to say on the matter, too busy keeping an eye on All Spark and its effects on its host. Optimus and Prowl were keeping their thoughts to themselves, but that was no surprise to Ironhide.

The Autobots would be told when the time was right.

Just as he'd speak with his Chromia, when the time was right.

She'd been cordial to him on the few occasions they'd spoken, but even he knew the relationship was strained. She wasn't the same brash, foolhardy femme he'd entrusted with his spark in the time before the All Spark had been lost. She was harder, more serious than he'd ever seen her, but in truth he'd changed too.

Chromia was upset, there was no use denying that fact.

What was worse, was the fact he could say nothing on the matter. In that last battle on Cybertron, he'd been half dead and couldn't feel her. There was no way to know she'd survived, but she had and she was here on Earth; giving him the cold servo, as if this mess had been his fault. As if he'd had a hand in her removal from the team.

Officially, Ratchet had been the one that had declared her unfit for travel. Optimus had been surprised, but it had been too late to substitute another officer. She'd argued against the assessment, but there was nothing she could have done, even if she had suspected malpractice. It was just another thing in a long list of secrets he was keeping from his former Bond mate. That and the identity of Mech with which he was involved. He was sure she knew anyway. Elita's Lieutenant had always been brilliant.

It was part of the reason he'd fallen in love with her.

Long Arm stopped short, his tow cable swinging as he released it. William rose from his position as all eyes turned toward the immobile Mech. Setting aside her warm coffee Mikaela started out across the lawn confusion crossing her pretty face.

"Hide?" Will's words snapped Ironhide from his thoughts and he swore loudly, his engine rumbling.

"Language." The diminutive female chided the Topkick as he began to shift into his alternate mode.

The sudden rev of his engine and the lack of reply was all they needed to know something was horribly wrong. Following suit, the soft-spoken pick up swung wide his door allowing Mikaela inside as Ironhide pulled away with the other human barely settled inside his cab.

The pair pulled away kicking up dust and gravel as they sped up the road. Staring out through the windshield the teen rehostered her weapons as she asked for an explanation, just inside the fuming Autobot Captain Lennox was doing the same.

"We've received an Emergency signal from another Autobot" was the identical reply.

Will however wasn't satisfied. There was obviously more to the story then his guardian was letting on.

"Who sent the signal?" A growl rose from the radio, but William was not one to give up easily. "Who sent it?"

The resulting reply was so soft, he barely heard it, but as recognition dawned, he closed his mouth leaving the cabin silent. Speeding along the black asphalt Ironhide sent a reply, offering a prayer to Primus; something he hadn't done since the All Spark had first been lost.

~Hold on Chromia,I'm coming.~

1313131313131

Sneaking into the human base was far easier than he expected. A scrawny looking soldier with glasses peering over a clipboard had stopped him at the gate. Peeking nervously into the empty car the human swallowed nervously and looked at his clipboard again.

"N.B.E Prowl?" he inquired softly.

Surprised, but inordinately pleased with the case of mistaken identity, the Decepticon had rolled with it, going so far as to altering his vocal inflections as necessary to sound more like the hated Autobot.

"Affirmative-" The Mustang paused gleaning the soldier's information from a scan of his ID card and the computer system that had not changed since the last time it was hacked."-Private Higgens, I have just returned from Patrol. I have nothing to report."

The guard nodded quickly, activating the controls of the gate, allowing the cruiser to pass by with a goofy smile and wave.

Purring, the masquerading Decepticon descended into the motor pool following the incline in a slow turn as the shadows concealed him. The vehicle-filled garage was nearly silent as he moved, but his processors were awash with incoming data. The humans had yet to correct the grievous weakness in their communications network that had allowed it to be taken down in the first place, their precious World Wide Web.

Barricade wasn't surprised. Stupid beings they were. Humans had a knack for failure, it was a wonder the species had even crawled up from the churning muck from which it came, or even began walking upright. Turning in the cool darkness, he stopped abruptly; his scans registering a human and an Autobot at the end of the row. Watching the yellow form loom threateningly over the suited figure, the Decepticon grinned. Finally, it seemed he was going to get the revenge he so desired

Cruising forward, the Mustang watched as the human spoke animatedly to the furious Autobot. Then slowly the fleshling stumbled back turning to stare at Barricade as he moved closer. With that, the cruiser sped forward, shifting into his more natural form as the human swore.

The utterance was obviously some unknown alien cue as the mechs leapt forward bringing weapons to bear. Swinging its viciously clawed appendage, N.B.E Barricade struck first, sharpened digits screeching across yellow plates. N.B.E Bumblebee, however, was just fast enough to shield the components of his face, successfully limiting the damage to a superficial scratches rather than a lost optic as his foe intended.

Even so, the monochrome Decepticon wasn't finished with him yet. Latching his claws over the interlocking panels Barricade pulled, claw tips hooking just under the smooth edge of Bumblebee's faceplate. Dragging him forward and off balance the Mech made a sound that sounded suspiciously like laughter as Bumblebee charged his weapons.

Simmons hobbled back, having never actually witnessed such a battle of epic proportions; despite the fact they were hampered by the lack of space in the motor pool. Fumbling for his weapon, the human threw himself to the cool concrete to avoid a tossed car. The graceless dive for safety earned him a bloody palm and a nearly broken elbow as he closed his fingers about his gun.

Bumblebee fired and missed his aggressor, the blast taking out the overhead lights, sending sparks raining down on them. In that instant, a blow from his opponent knocked him back, scattering packed cars like dominos across the pavement. Visibility waned as the lighting system sputtered giving the whole situation more of a horror movie feel than it had already possessed.

Reginald Simmons rolled over, barely avoided being crushed underfoot by the Non-biological entities battling overhead. Suddenly, N.B.E Barricade lunged forward, striking the disorientated scout once more before closing his hand about the Bot's throat, claws cutting into the venerable black cabling. The pained wails echoed through the darkness, as the Decepticon crowed with laughter.

"I had him this way once, felt him gasp and choke under my fingers." Ignoring the yellow fingers clawing at his hands the Mustang gripped tighter, facial plates stretching into a cruel smile. "Felt him writhe, heard him scream."

Under his claws, the restrained Autobot made a horrible screeching sound that only encouraged his tormentor." I held him as the All Spark burnt the humanity from him. I touched him as he screamed for you."

Tossing N.B.E Bumblebee across the pavement N.B.E Barricade leveled a charged weapon at his foe, but was unable to resist a parting shot. "I know what he feels for you and that there is nothing that you can do about it."

In the silence a single gunshot echoed, the projectile striking the Decepticon squarely in the optic.

Snarling, he turned on the human, reaching. Rising from the pavement, Bumblebee launched himself at his tormentor. Barricade however, was through playing. The direct shot from his cannon tore through the bright armor piercing the Autobot to the core. His optics flickered as he fell back, dropping onto his door wings with a sound of squealing metal.

He could barely hear the man who'd tried to help him as Barricade snorted.

"Just kill me now."

The subtle shake of the trooper's head was lost on the scout as his vision dimmed. The derision in his tone however was not. "Not yet, I still need one hostage."

Silver flashed before his optics and Bumblebee fell silent.

1313131313131

Gravel kicked up from minor explosions bounced along the Autobot's hood. There was no help for it or the fact they were under attack, they'd blundered right into an ambush. Used to such odds, Sideswipe had been rather optimistic, even as they caught sight of their patients in the middle of the desert.

Away from base and city, the land was yet to be developed and had served as a place to defend from attack Still there was no time to plan, and there was work to be done.

Tying back his hair, the usually animated teen was eerily silent. His partner, on the other hand wouldn't stop talking. As odd, as it was to be conversing with the Autobot through the radio, Miles found it oddly comforting. It was at least distracting from the fact his first mission could very well be the last one of his life.

Another blast streaked past the window and Sideswipe skidded in the dirt, executing a turn with such speed and precision that his passenger was glad he'd eaten nothing for breakfast. In his moment of thankfulness, the radio kicked in again, surprised the teen briefly wondered if Sam had ever felt the same way.

"Are you ready for this?"

Clutching the hastily assembled tools and artifacts that made up his med kit, Miles nodded slowly with one hand on his seatbelt. "Let's do it!"

Streaking across the sand and rocks, Sideswipe stopped on a dime, his door snapping open before the cloud of dust even caught up with him. Whispering 'Good Luck' Lancaster slipped from the open door and crouched in the shadow of an odd rock formation, eyes scanning the sky on horizon as he caught his breath.

Spinning away from him, the red Lamborghini shifted forms just in time to lay cover fire on unseen assailants. Without looking back, Milton ran, grit catching his sneakers as he bolted from hiding; moving toward the downed frame of a familiar femme.

"Chromia!"

Stumbling once, he barely made it to the battered Autobot before he fell to his knees, fingers scrabbling at exposed wiring as he tried to discern the reason Chromia wasn't moving.

The readouts from his scanner, a cobbled piece of tech he'd been given, confirmed minimal external damage to the femme, but to find anything else he had to get closer, much closer. Flopping to the ground the geeky human crawled forward muttering to himself the complex information about Cybertronian anatomy in hopes to find the problem. Trying to analyze her chest plates however, he realized just why she wasn't moving. Nestled against her frame breathing shallowly with bloody scratches over his arms and torso, Trent DeMarco rolled his eyes.

"You know you're the last person I'd expected to see on my deathbed."

Flashing what he hoped was an encouraging grin; he drew bandages from the first aid kit. "That's great, cause you're not on your deathbed yet."

"You say that now, but that little guy's still out there…"

Pausing in confusion Miles raised an eyebrow. "What little guy?"

Just as the question left his lips the teen found sharpened claws digging into the back of his legs. There was nothing, no time to react much less fight as his captor hauled him from the niche settled just beside the still form of Chromia. Screaming in fear and pain, the medic swung at his assailant only to find it was a freakish robotic condor almost larger than he was. Pausing for breath, the teen clawed at the ground beneath him as he began screaming again.

Kicking and flailing got the teen nowhere, as the Decepticon bird could probably lift twice his weight without a problem. The screaming, though, continued uninterrupted as he fished in his pocket on the pretense he'd find something helpful or the very least distracting.

Further away, Sideswipe was regretting his previous assessment of the situation. He hadn't counted on the appearance of Soundwave after all. Rolling back, he took aim and fired, avoiding the feline like creature that charged across the sand. He was still sure they'd survive. He just wasn't sure what sort of condition they'd be in afterwards. Pausing to shoot the spiraling Laserbeak, the Autobot warrior never saw the other cassette until it was too late.

Chromia was up the instant she knew her charge was all right and his friend was not. Scanning the field, she saw the ferocious form of Ravage taking out the only other Autobot in sight. She took a step and Soundwave met her optics, lifting his own weapons.

"Trent honey," she began in a softly voice, putting a hand against him as she prepared to make a stand. "get behind me. And when you're clear, run."

Looking from her to the approaching Decepticons, he made a face, but for once, he did as he was told.

"I don't like this." He insisted firmly

"You don't have to; go make sure Miles is ok."

She said it the way someone would a last request and he found himself turning, unable to refuse her even though he could see the blond moaning in the dirt. The Decepticons were moving ever closer, but there had to be another way.

She couldn't just fight them on her own.

He broke out into a run, moving as far as he could, unwilling to let his guardian be injured protecting him, even if she was determined to do it anyway.

As he reached Miles’ side, he found the geek with a screwdriver in his mouth kneeling over the larger form of his kidnapper, a huge screaming bird. It flailed and attacked as he was attempting to do something, crossed wired hanging from his mouth. The jock didn't wasted arguing or asking pointless questions, he only moved closer, offering his hands.

Snorting softly, Lancaster shoved the stripped wiring into his palms as he dug further into the open chest.

Bypassing the Spark chamber completely he began to focus on the outer edges of the casing that held it. It was smaller than the few he'd had the chance to see and it gave him an idea.

Sparing a glance over his shoulder, DeMarco watched as his Hummer traded painful looking blows with a Mech the size of Ironhide, she was practically outmatched but she wasn't backing down. A bitter smile reached his features and he decided not to either.

"Miles?"

The medic shook his head, focusing on the task even as he snapped back.

"There's a connection between this guy and that bigger one… Almost like a Spark Bond… I think …I can use it… just give me aha-!"

Trent gave him no warning as he threw himself the geek beside him, playing the part of living shield.

Turning as the connection took, Miles was aware of Trent falling forward with a choked cry as blood gushed from the wound in his throat, spreading behind him like wings as he collapsed over him and the screeching thing. Above him stood an oddly shaped back creature, blood dripping from its body and claws as red eyes met his own.

Gritting his teeth, the teen seized the screwdriver once more, slamming it into the open chest casing earning a pained howl from the Decepticon before him and the ones facing Chromia as she slumped to the ground.

The cassette tumbled forward across his body, but not before he saw the dark form a transformed cruiser launch into the still standing silver Decepticon. Not far off he heard the distant sound of a truck's horn, heralding the arrival of late back up. Taking the gauze from his pocket Miles began wrapping it over DeMarco's neck and slumped against the offlined Decepticon to wait.

1313131313131

Optimus onlined to worried optics and grim news, his extend period of stasis lock had been due to a virus written into the preliminary coding of the All Spark by the Decepticons. It had been a devastating attack to his very Spark that had almost overtaken him and that had been the good news. To his left was the immobile body of Sideswipe, and beyond him Chromia. The pair had taken on Soundwave and his Cassettes and survived and only just, so due to the unlikely assistance of their human allies.

Milton Lancaster had escaped the battle with severe bruises and minor lacerations as opposed to Trent DeMarco, who was still in intensive care. Soundwave was currently not a problem, but the distraction he and his drones had provided was another story.

Barricade had infiltrated the Dam to retrieve the Decepticons Frenzy and Bonecrusher. He'd also caused extensive damage to the base in his fight with Bumblebee and then in his battle Sunstreaker, a battle from which Reginald Simmons had escaped with a broken rib and a fractured wrist. Dewbot had lost an arm to the skirmish but was still functioning, a fact for which Miles was grateful.

Overall, such was the worst of the injuries, but not the worst of the bedside report he received. It seemed in the escape from Hoover Dam the Decepticons had claimed a hostage, one that had infuriated the first lieutenant even now, as he stood stoically at Prime's berth side.

"What is it Prowl?"

"They took Jazz sir."

The simple statement was more than enough to underscore the severity of the situation, even to the recently onlined Bumblebee. Even so, the scout had other priorities one just as serious as those of his superiors. The simple question he broached, stunned all to silence, even when they knew the answer he sought and could not give it to him.

"Where is Sam?"


	14. Murphy's Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> : Sparks: 14 Murphy's Law
> 
> Pairing BeexSam, ProwlxJazz, RatchetxIronhide  
> Rating: M  
> Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. Hasbro does. All characters are 18 or older with the exception of Annabelle.
> 
> Not much to say except sorry for the wait, and this hasn't been beta'd I just really wanted to get it out,
> 
> Thanks to lemonflav_lopfe ,mmouse15 and katintheroses. \
> 
> So enjoy!
> 
> So here it goes. This is the re-edited version of Sparks. Thanks to gracesolo for all of the wonderful beta work, hand holding and laughter. You're my hero hon!
> 
>  
> 
> 10-12-17  
> Also a thanks to Every1s_Beta for their sharp eyes. Sorry about the double post.  
> Also there’s some graphic torture in this chapter and some unsavory situations. Please be warned.

 

  
14141414141414   
  
Sparks 14: Murphy's Law   
  
14141414141414

  
Miles rocked in his seat and tapped his pen against a stack of paper. The motion caught Mikeala's attention and she rolled her eyes. She didn't want to be at the briefing any more than he did, but their attendance was mandatory. If they were to find Sam, they had to do it by the book. They'd signed away their freedom and with it, their ability to make impulsive decisions.

 

No matter how much they wanted to be out with the search parties.   
  
Sam had been missing for two weeks, and the Decepticons were lying so low that the Cybertronian scouting teams hadn't been able to find neither hide nor hair of them. It was out of character for them as far as the Autobots were concerned, but their allies merely took it in stride. 

 

There was no place on earth that could protect them for long.   
  
It didn't have to be long, thought Miles, ignoring the oversized map projected on the far wall. The Decepticons had what they wanted and as far as he'd gotten from the Bots under his care, it wouldn't be long before they started building an army.   
  
Just what they needed in the US, giant robot zombies taking over the planet; and the government was just going to let it happen.   
  
Miles sighed loudly and slumped in his chair, Trent elbowed him in the ribs. Turning to glare at the still bandaged teen, the medic brandished his pen menacingly. A pointed glance at the papers in front of him, however, changed his mind.   
  
There written in pen, in a handwriting that was not his own.   
  
'The short of it, is the top brass wants to play defense instead of going for the ball. The bots don't agree. '   
  
Lancaster snorted in amusement and leaned forward, blocking his reply from view.   
  
'Obviously. So when do we leave?'   
  
'We don't. It's going to be a small cadre of bots, soldiers and agents. You and yours are staying put. Might want to organize a distraction while you're at it.   
  
Miles sat up straight, crumpling the report under his fingers. "You're kidding ...right?"   
  
Black leather seats creaked as the assembled company turned to look. Across the table, Agent Mikaela Banes shushed him before everyone turned back to listen to the Secretary of Defense.   
  
"Any questions?"   
  
Trent snatched the pen from Miles' fingers and scratched over the words, his lips pressed tight.   
  
'The less who know the better and we don't need you hurt either.'   
  
Accepting back the pen, the teen turned the packet, writing along the margins. 'Speak for yourself asshole.'   
  
Any reply was squashed as Reginald Simmons moved forward, pulling the graffiti decorated packet from the table. Lancaster and Demarco turned away, eyes riveting towards the far wall as the projection dimmed, the slideshow finished. The darkened room was suddenly that much darker as the map of the continental United States with 15 dots in red faded from view.   
  
When no one spoke, Secretary Keller ended the meeting sadly. "You will stick to your posts and defense against the Decepticon menace. You don't need me to tell what will happen if we fail."   
  
The entire company of soldiers and suits saluted sharply, before filing from the room into the corridors of Hoover Dam's fifth floor. Pacing behind her commanding officer, Mikaela turned to look at her former classmates hissing as they fell into step behind her.

 

The taller of pair, the only of them with an officially earned rank; her former boyfriend, shrugged at his companion and met her gaze. A sad smile reached her features and she slowed her pace considerably as Miles sulked.   
  
It was impossible to walk three abreast, so the men tailed her towards the elevator bank. It had been a bit since they had last seen each other, but the separation hasn't dampened their camaraderie in the least.   
  
"Did you do something with your hair?" Miles asked suddenly.   
  
Mikaela spared her odd friend an insulting look. "No, it just seems longer because DeMarco's isn't."   
  
Snorting derisively, Trent ran his fingers through his cropped mane before deigning to reply. "You have to admit, it’s pretty sharp."   
  
Banes laughed and Miles gave her a disgusted look.   
  
Trent plastered a grin across his face in return. "What else can I say? The service looks good on me."   
  
Agent Banes tipped her head. "It doesn't hurt, if that's what you mean."   
  
The trio slowed to a stop, tucking themselves into an unused room along the corridor. Their cheery demeanor and smiles vanished the instant the door closed behind them.   
  
"What the hell is going on?" asked Mikaela softly.   
  
"Lennox and the boys are joining the search party unauthorized."   
  
Whistling loudly, the Human Cybertronian Liaison tugged DeMarco's collar down examining the bandage wrapped tight about his throat as one would inspect an unsightly hickey.   
  
Trent made a face but continued. "We're going out tonight. Only a few teams were given clearance. Not even all the bots know, and we plan to keep it that way."   
  
"So?" Mikeala pressed on.   
  
"I'm telling you because you and the truck made the cut and I’m telling him because the twins didn't.” He pushed at Milton’s hands and sneered. “You're going to have to keep them out of trouble while the mission is on."   
  
"Why am I not surprised?"   
  
"How's Chromia?" Miles interrupted Mikeala' s query, rocking back and forth in his grey suit.   
  
His question seemed to hang in the air for a moment before Trent responded. "You don't know? I thought she came in for a system check yesterday."   
  
Miles shook his head and tapped at his watch. "The only Cybertronians I see on a regular basis are my instructor, my bodyguards, and my patients."   
  
"She's fine, glad to be on active duty again."   
  
Pursing his lips, the teen nodded encouragingly. "Good, that's good."   
  
The unimpressed look DeMarco gave him wasn't reassuring, with a sigh he shrugged. "It's probably okay. As long as she's getting regular checkups, Ratch and I aren't the only qualified medics on base."   
  
Mikaela chose that moment to interrupt, curling a few strands of his blond about her fingers. "How is that partnership going? Can you keep them out of trouble?"   
  
Wrinkling his nose Miles looked away. "It's going fine. Sideswipe is pretty great and Sunstreaker can be trusted to stay out of the way, at the very least."   
  
The cat got canary smile she turned on him immediately underscored the fact he'd said exactly the wrong thing. "I was asking about Ratchet, but if you're willing to share. Long Arm is pretty curious, having never experienced such a phenomenon."   
  
"Y'know" Trent continued surprising himself. "I'm actually curious myself."   
  
"About what? There's nothing to tell." Miles snipped back.   
  
"You sure?"   
  
As the inquiry caught him off guard, Miles stepped away from the soldier and secret agent, bumping against the door as the teens moved closer. With no one else in the hall, he was trapped with no escape. He was going to have to face the rumor mongering and there was nothing he could do.   
  
A sudden knock on the door, alerted them to Simmons' impatience and Lancaster sighed thankfully.   
  
Following him out, Mikaela Banes wasn't finished. "Miles, There's something we've been meaning to tell you."

  
14141414141414   
  


Stumbling down a corridor in ill-fitting boots and a wrinkled uniform, Samuel Witwicky found himself dragged about a military installation. It wasn't exactly his cup of tea, but he really didn't have a choice, what with the deranged officer escorting him through the base. 

 

The man, if it could be called that, at his right was none other than the holographic representation of Starscream. For being a fabricated extension of hard light, he looked and felt real. Sam hadn't even known something like that was possible, but apparently it was and the human was again at the mercy of the Decepticon Air Commander.   
  
Gritting his teeth, Witwicky marched along, tugging at the scrounged uniform as the hand on his shoulder tightened. Wincing he glared at Starscream, his hands curling into a fist. It was a pointless threat , but it made him feel marginally better as the Decepticon sneered.   
  
"Turn here, and be silent."   
  
It was one thing to be ordered about by the alien, but to hear that voice from a human shape was ridiculous; Sam almost laughed, but caught himself.   
  
There was nothing funny about this, or the events that had led him into it.

 

He'd been kidnapped by the Decepticons, again. It was like a bad record and he was getting tired of the track.

 

This term however, he wasn't alone. Jazz, the previously deceased Autobot lieutenant, was also a prisoner of the Decepticons.   
  
Sam didn't know how it had happened or even why. The last thing he remembered, was talking to Optimus as his thoughts had drifted to Bumblebee and-.   
  
No. He wasn't going there. Not now.

 

Sam’s resolution was suddenly moot as he tripped over a broken shoelace. Pitching forward he almost face planted with the floor. The Decepticon's death-grip on his collar, however, saved him from more than just the embarrassment the stumble would have caused. Wrenching him to his feet, Starscream shoved Sam forward violently, stepping through the door out onto the tarmac.   
  
Bright light assaulted the teen's senses and he lifted his hand to shield his face. The sun was high, the strip scorching. It was almost too much for the young human to bear. With a hand on his arm, the Air Commander kept him moving.   
  
One foot, in front of the other. Keeping his head down Sam moved, following the hissed instructions. A few pilots passed him heading toward the building, but he paid them no mind. 

 

There was no time to try and be a hero.   
  
The entire base was being held hostage and they didn't even know it.   
  
It was an effective ploy. 

 

With so many hostages, there was no way for Sam to even consider refusing his captor's request. The damaged chassis of the Autobot Lieutenant was almost useless as a bargaining chip, now that the All Spark's vessel knew he could bring the Cybertronians back to life. So the Decepticons had formed a new plan to keep him compliant.   
  
Every human that Sam passed was beholden to him. Every face he saw was a life for which he was responsible. If he tried anything, anything at all, the humans would die; one by one. It was a rather effective method of control, gleefully underscored by Frenzy who'd realized that their captive no longer raised his head, seeking help.   
  
The silver con was with his creator, Soundwave, circling the base on the lookout for anything strange. This particular outing was merely a test of their pet's behavior. A chance to see if their power over the boy was absolute or if another demonstration was necessary.   
  
The All Spark had tried to flee the second week, and Brawl had knocked him from his feet. He had regained consciousness to Jazz's screams as Scorponok had torn out his optics, the act was to be security against such continued behavior but Sam hadn't reacted as expected.   
  
He'd howled in fury, attacking the nearest mech. When they'd grabbed him, he fought so rashly that there had been no chance to utilize the access ports in his skin, no chance for the Cons to bend his will from the inside out.   
  
Displeased, Megatron had ordered Soundwave to remove the jacks set into his flesh, one at a time.   
  
The trailing, silver tentacles had gotten as far as cutting open the flesh at his wrist before his screams had driven Jazz into action. The fight had been short lived. Another demonstration and the pair of them were battered and bloody. 

 

Even now the damaged skin of his arm was lesson enough. The bruise was still healing, especially since the Decepticons tended to drag him about by the injured appendage. He woken with three ports intact, the fourth clotted and red, painfully useless.   
  
Since then, Sam's, attitude had improved marginally as his spirit was broken. He'd begun to talk back less and less, which was unfortunate. Starscream had always preferred toys with a bit of fight in them. Stopping before an old hangar, the Decepticon snorted as he checked over the maps he'd downloaded.   
  
This was the place.   
  
Addressing the human, he pointed to a small door in the shadow of the building and they moved slowly, heedless of the necessary passcode. Frenzy parroted the numbers from Soundwave to Starscream, his voice filled with boredom. It was only Soundwave's presence that kept the small con from doing something stupid.   
  
The door opened into the hangar, the light from the doorway casting its presence across the aircraft inside. Shoving the human forward, Starscream leaned against the wall, and let the door swing shut.   
  
Turning in the fading light, the human was able to catch the flickering of red eyes and cruel smirk of his captor. "Now then, fleshling, let's see what you can do."   
  
In the darkness, the human shaped seeker reached, striking at boy before he could blink. As the pain set in and he fell, Sam's last thought was of the odd black jet looming above him. Starscream chuckled and Sam felt the power rolling from him in waves..

  
14141414141414   
  


Security within Hoover Dam and its affiliated offices had improved considerably in the time after the Decepticon attack. It was a fact that not only worried the Autobot forces, but left them disheartened. The measure of preparation the humans had achieve included the preperation of combat maneuvers to use against Cybertronian life.   
  
In a secluded corner of the base, Prowl watched the members of Sector Seven train their operatives with a rising sense of dread. It was nothing like the Academy of his youth or the well managed war-made teams his people had become over the centuries.   
  
The black suited rows of adolescents marching in tandem, bearing weapons and a pack mentality, were more like the legions that followed Megatron to their deaths, before the loss of the All Spark. It was a shame it was beginning on this planet, as well.   
  
Shifting gears, the monochrome Tactical officer of the Autobot forces slipped unnoticed from the hangar and made his way through the recently repaired motor pool. Light flickered above him as he rolled for the exit, his scans taking in every detail of the garage; especially the empty spot that had once held the Bumblebee.   
  
He was long gone, enraged to the point of ignoring his orders and taking off. Prowl had followed him in that instant; tires screeching as they sped up the ramp, easing past debris and roadwork as they pulled out onto the desert . Clouds of dust billowed up as the Camaro flew across the landscape, the mustang hot on its trail.   
  
Fighting the rising anger and confusion, Prowl had called to the scout attempting to stop him, if not to find the reason for such uncharacteristic behavior. Only after the fourth warning and the threat to shoot had Bumblebee replied.   
  
"What in the name of the All Spark are you doing?"   
  
"I'm going to get him." The gruff reply was so unlike the young Bot Prowl almost hit his brakes.   
  
Swerving around a few cars, the cruiser activated his sirens and sped up. Maintaining his own breakneck speed, Bumblebee refused to stop.   
  
"Don't you mean them?"   
  
"No, I don't" The venom-filled reply was more Decepticon like than any Bumblebee had ever given in his life.   
  
Pulling up alongside his companion. Prowl tried again. "What you are doing is absolutely uncalled for, desist now."   
  
"Uncalled for?" The incredulous sound of his friend and subordinate was almost more than Prowl could take. Nothing in his illustrious career had ever prepared him for something like this. Dropping speed, the cruiser fell in behind the Camaro, trying to avoid crashing into other vehicles as he tried to reason with the scout.   
  
"Stop this Bumblebee. whatever you are thinking, whatever you are planning. This is not our way."   
  
Weaving dangerously the bright Autobot addressed his mentor roughly. "To the pit with 'our way'. I will not let this happen again. I lost him due to my own feelings and I am going to get him back."   
  
The sorrow in that voice was all he needed to know what the human meant to the scout. He used the same tone when he spoke of Jazz. The same mixture of love and regret plagued almost every member of their team. It was so obvious, he wondered why he did not see it before.   
  
Pushing the limits of his alternate mode, Prowl addressed Bumblebee again.   
  
"I understand. I know now what he is to you. A spark mate, as Jazz was to me." He wasn't sure if such a thing was possible, but there was no mistaking what the mech felt. A surge of emotion ripped through the elder bot's spark and he continued, voice cracking over the connection. "But you must know we will save him."   
  
"You don't understand Prowl. None of you can." Growling low, the mech sped up smoke rising from the asphalt as he went. His vocalizer cracked as he continued, anger rising in his tone. "Sam is not my spark mate, by Primus I would have him so, but he is not and can never be. This war has seen to that, despite it bringing us together. There is nothing I can do but protect him for the rest of his life as I have sworn to. I'd rather tear out my own spark then fail again."   
  
Prowl had stopped suddenly, screeching to a halt; the cloud of dust eclipsed his form, as he watched Bee pull away. The scout was wrong, dead wrong. He did understand; he'd understood centuries before the All Spark had even landed on the planet.   
  
He had understood that sentiment, the instant Jazz had clung to him in a cold black Decepticon cell, humming softly as he leaked Energon at an unimaginable rate. He known the moment he'd taken the lieutenant's hand, and asked him the question he'd been dying to ask him since the moment they had met. Citing his desire to die as a bonded pair than to live forever without Jazz, it had been the most important decision of his life; as the choice to protect was Bumblebee's.   
  
Cutting his sirens he'd let him go, praying to Primus for his sake.   
  
That had been days ago, when the repairs had still been fresh, but that wasn't important anymore. What was important now was ensuring that no one else would ever have to suffer as he and Bumblebee had.   
  
Giving a blast of his sirens, Prowl pulled out joining the search for the All Spark, rather, Samuel Witwicky.

  
1414141414141414

  
It was cold and dark, well of course it was dark, he'd been without sight for nearly- well it didn't really matter. He was still trapped.   
  
As his death had been, the Autobot's resurrection had been sudden and painful. The effect of having repeatedly felt both upon his guttering spark multiple times in the past week had been more than enough to render him incoherent. 

 

It was that helplessness that accounted for his current position as a Decepticon hostage.   
  
There was none of the insurance the position usually afforded; Jazz was merely leverage against the All Spark. Death was no longer permanent and Sam Witwicky's resilience had earned the mech several injuries, the missing optics, a shattered visor, along with extensive internal and external damage. It was a miracle he was functioning at all. \

 

A miracle that cried and bled at Decepticon hands; a miracle that hated being useless. A miracle that was capable of remaking a planet.   
  
A new Cybertron.   
  
That was it, the goal of the Decepticons, not to mention the total destruction of the Autobot forces. It was the focus of their mission, balanced on a young human who hadn't even finished high school. Shifting in his cell Jazz frowned, Sam was too young, much too young to be the harbinger of such change. 

 

Even if he was the All Spark made flesh.   
  
He knew it, there was no mistaking the energy that flowed from the teen as he had healed the worst of the lieutenant's torture-inflicted wounds. He had more than just its influence or power. He was the All Spark. Even more than that.   
  
He was one of the only reasons Jazz was still alive.   
  
Having lost the only link he'd held with his beloved at his untimely death Jazz didn't even know if his bond mate was even alive.   
  
Sam was suspiciously tight lipped on the subject, despite the torture he'd come to experience daily under the less than tender mercies of the Decepticon forces. He could heal any injured Cybertronian, but the talent did not extend to himself.   
  
It was inconceivable, the silver Autobot had never seen a creature bleed so much outside of battle, but that seemed like years ago, when he'd still had his sight.   
  
The boy, the All Spark had cried less than, when he could see him. Once in a great while, he'd hear him at night cursing his weaknesses. It wasn't exactly right; he wasn't helpless or even remotely stupid. Sam was just a young man caught in a war which he had no business being a part of.   
  
He was a brave boy who stood up to aliens bent on using him for their own ends and he survived. It was a lot more than one could say about most of the people who'd been in the same situation. Not that too many had.   
  
It was morning. It had to have been.   
  
Soundwave, he'd known who it was by the heavy footsteps and the softer ones behind, had come and taken Samuel ages ago. He'd probably be back soon, pounding the walls in frustration before bottling up his regret and asking the lieutenant how he was.   
  
Any fear or anger that Sam held was banished in the face of helping others. He'd even repaired some minor damage on the smaller drones, which by his admission hadn't been caused by Autobots. Despite the uneasiness in his tone and sorrow in his words, the battle lines were blurring for Sam. It wasn't hard to see; with or without optics.   
  
He knew what was happening, He'd experienced the same thing ages before, when he'd first been captured by the Autobots. Hanging his head the former Decepticon knew he'd give anything to be taken again.   
  
Odd footsteps echoed across the floor, earning sensor sweep from the restrained mech. It wasn't someone he knew; in fact he wasn't sure it was even a Decepticon. His cruel captors were pathologically unable to pass him without tormenting him in some way. The echoes sounded again, and some mech came closer, shorting the electrified cell with a single shot before moving to Jazz's side.   
  
Bracing himself for anything, Jazz was distinctly surprised by long fingers tracing the projections of his helm as the Bot sighed softly. It wasn't, it couldn't have been. There was just no way. The voice calling his name however was distinct proof otherwise. "Oh Jazz."   
  
In his chest, his severed spark pulsed, making him shake as the hands moved to free him from his bonds.   
  
Shaking his head, he had so many questions and so much to say but nothing came, everything bottled up as a sudden choked sound erupted from his lip components.   
  
"Prowl?"   
  
The reaction was immediate, as soon as he was free, strong hands lifted him from the floor, pulling him close so he could feel the rumbling engine against his frame.   
  
Bonded. His bonded.   
  
Sagging against Prowl, he clung, despite their location, holding tight to his other half. The lips against his helm moved slowly each word a deceleration of longing and love. "I thought I I'd lost you, I couldn't feel…. I can't feel you."   
  
In that instant, hands gripped his pulling them tight against an unfamiliar frame.   
  
"I missed you"   
  
Clinging tighter, the smaller mech leaned upon his love, shaking in the dark. It was exactly what he'd been longing for, wishing for. "Prove to me this is real."   
  
The subtle shake of the officer's head was as clear a denial as if he had pulled away. They both knew it wasn't the time or place for such a thing. "I want you, but I can't, our bond is broken so I must not."   
  
Lifting his head the lieutenant smiled sadly, reaching for the mech he could not bear to live without. Laying a hand to his chest, he rose up to whisper lips to lips. "We've waited so long, I won't wait any longer." Pressing his hand over his other's spark, he was reminded of the first time they'd been together and it brought another smile to his face, one he hadn't had in ages, just like his bonded.   
  
"Touch me "   
  
Oddly, for once in his existence, Prowl didn't need to be told twice.

  
14141414141414

  
Milton Lancaster heaved a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. Pacing was doing absolutely nothing for him. So instead, he resorted to the practical approach.   
  
Taping the comlink nestled against his head, the teen called the Security officer on duty. It took less than a minute for the major to locate the very mech he was looking for. Unfortunately, the Bot was not alone.   
  
Squaring his shoulders, the medic-in-training stuffed his hands in his pockets and strolled into the med bay determined to rectify the situation.   
  
Across the room, the brilliant chartreuse Hummer he'd come to respect and tolerate as his teacher didn't bother to look up.

 

"You're early."   
  
Rolling his eyes, Miles passed the sole patient in the room and dropped onto the green couch against the wall. "I know. I figured I'd have some work to do."   
  
Snorting, Ratchet examined an attachment in his hand before applying it to the panel before him. "Rather unlikely, things have been quiet since the last skirmish."   
  
Nodding, the teen leaned back, examining his sneakers and the mixtures of stains on their soles. The brightest were the dried blood and Energon from the pivotal battle weeks ago, when they had lost Sam.   
  
Quirking his lips, Milton addressed his alien instructor once more pushing back his bangs. "Then go."   
  
"What?"   
  
"Go on. take a break Just, go."   
  
Turning slowly the CMO looked to the human reclining on the couch. He, a mere assistant, a human assistant was attempting to kick Ratchet out of his own workspace. Setting aside the bright red panel he was working the dings out of, the medic moved closer, dwarfing the teen as he stared down at him. 

 

"Why in the name of Primus would I do something like that?"   
  
Crossing his arms Miles seemed almost insulted. "Why Hatchet, don't you trust me?"   
  
The scornful glare he received wasn't nearly as frightening as facing down a Decepticon so the blond continued. "If you don't trust me to oversee the medbay in your absence… why are you training me?"   
  
The Hummer was silent for a moment before flipping the attachment back into his wrist. "You've got a point there."   
  
Rising to his feet, the Miles dusted his hands and grinned at the Autobot before him. "Of course I do, now scoot." His shove was ineffectual at Ratchet's leg, but it was only an attempt to emphasize his point.   
  
Nonplussed, the more experienced officer leaned down imparting a few well-meant instructions and requirements before the unprecedented changing of the guards. Used to such gestures from his mother, the young human nodded waiting for the CMO to finish his summary, he didn't have long to wait, there was only one patient after all.   
  
He didn't even wait for his instructor to finish before interrupting. "Yes, I've got it. He's not going anywhere, even if I have to stasis lock him. I'll be fine, sir."   
  
Pausing to meet his protégée eye-to-eye, Ratchet had to admit things would be safe in the human's hands.   
  
"Now that we've established that, there's probably something, or someone you could be doing right now. Get to it. You're not gonna get a reprieve everyday".   
  
Arching an optic ridge in a look that meant he knew exactly what his assistant was implying, Ratchet shook his head before moving to the door, muttering about humans and their misplaced prerogatives Miles ignored the statement and waited until the hall was clear before turning to the task at hand.   
  
With slow steps, Milton C. Lancaster moved toward his acquired patient. Climbing up onto the berth, the young man regarded his charge as he walked across his plating, fishing the necessary tools from the confines of his overalls. Staring down at the recharging mech, the medic lifted the wrench high above his head before swinging it down, across the smooth faceplates, all but shattering the oath he'd sworn, to protect and heal those under his care.   
  
The attack was quick and to the point, the infirmed mech beneath him was awake within seconds, confusion spreading across his damaged features. The blow hadn't been particularly hazardous, but it had been expertly applied to cause its recipient pain. Shaking his head, the abused Autobot tried to move and discern who was doing him such harm.   
  
Balanced against the Autobot's torso, Miles swung again, the tool in his hand catching the receptive helm protrusions. Sideswipe winced and recoiled, nearly dislodging the much smaller form.   
  


“What in Primus?”

  
Despite the shuddering of his perch, Miles held on, one hand clutching the panels making up the Autobot's chest plate. It was a risky position that granted him the advantage over his victim,. The sharp, yet sensitive edges cut into his palm as he held on, heedless of the pain and blood.   
  
Swinging the wrench, the angry teen stared the confused alien in the optics as he was finally able vocalize the things he desperately needed to say.

 

"How dare you!" he growled, unable to strike his assistant again. 

 

His violent rage was ebbing, but he still wasn't finished. "I didn't even know what I was doing and you only encouraged it! How messed up is that? What the hell is wrong with you?"   
  
Sideswipe didn't move, he didn't speak. He only stared down at the howling youth as he fought angry tears welling in his eyes. Miles stood precariously balanced, a bent wrench clasped in his swelling red hand. Sighing, his shoulders dropped and he looked away, the flush of his fury giving away the pink blush of humiliation. 

 

"You made me into some sort of whore."   
  
  


Sitting up Sideswipe lifted his hands, supporting the human in his grasp. The first words he spoke were intelligible, but it didn't seem to matter Sideswipe seemed to smile, lifting the human higher to meet his gaze.   
  
His voice was softer than the teen had ever heard and directed at him, in an attempt to soothe and comfort. To his surprise, he found it was actually working. The large thumb of the mech brushed against his chest, as the mech cradled him gently. 

 

"You've got it all wrong."   
  
"Do I?" Reaching to wipe a tear he hadn't known was there, Milton smeared blood over his cheek renewing his pain as a hiccup made its way from his lips. Chagrined the warrior-medic held him closer, .   
  
Sudden footsteps startled them and Miles actually dropped his weapon as he guiltily turned towards the door. Before either could speak, a bright golden figure crossed the room and yanked the human from his brother's hands, hauling him up to his full height 

 

“Part of it at any rate"   
  
Flailing briefly the human shut his eyes to the dizzying altitude and demanded an answer. "Then tell me. How am I wrong?"   
  
Drawing him closer to his face the sneering mech bit back a laugh and whispered to his hostage "He led you and encouraged you, because I told him to."   
  
Stunned and horrified. the blond could only glare helplessly from the mech's grip. He was livid. He was beyond angry. "You used me!" He snarled jabbing a finger at Sunstreaker.   
  
The mech shrugged unconcerned by the accusation. "You were there."   
  
Shaking off his aphasia the young medic squirmed, trying to strike the smug Bot. "How could you?" he demanded heedless of his precarious situation. 

 

The Bot's reveal had him angrier than he'd even been in his entire life, and for good reason. It was one thing to be seduced into such an encounter, but being manipulated into it was another thing entirely.   
  
Shaking the scrawny male, the more volatile of the twins laughed derisively at the query. It wasn't as if he owed him anything. The fierce look he received from his spark mate, however was enough to make him deign to answer. 

 

"Rather easily."   
  
Sunstreaker's words, poorly chosen and ill-timed were enough to reignite the passionate fury of a human scorned and Miles shoved a fist into his pocket. He was not about to take such disrespect, not from an oversized toaster, not from anyone. Closing his fingers over a large flathead screwdriver, he gave his forthcoming ward a chance to make up for his mistake. "You think that's funny?"   
  
Lifting him up that much higher the offensive mech sneered at him optics flashing as his spat out the next words. "Only the most pathetically undistinguished, repulsive little joke there ever was,"   
  
Staring blankly ahead Milton was done, he'd had enough.   
  
Lifting his hand from his pocket, he drew the last weapon he had as the yellow Autobot continued speaking. "I only put up with such offensive character, because Sideswipe's a bleeding spark."   
  
No sooner had the words left his lips components than the medic in training attacked him. Swinging the simple tool down over the yellow warrior's pale faceplate, the teen easily scratched the through the paint producing an unsightly scar along Sunstreaker's face, from the beneath his left optic to the edge of his face. The reaction was immediate and the Autobot released him suddenly, pressing bright fingers to his face as he screamed.   
  
Miles fell with a cry, bouncing against the outstretched hands of the aforementioned bleeding spark. He wincing at the pain before struggling to his knees. Shaking away the impact, Milton rose to his feet in the black hands of his savior. Sideswipe looked from the human to his brother, convinced the mech had finally lost his mind.

 

Above them, the angry mech reached for the teen rumbling threateningly. His bright optics flashed as he spoke practically growling at the human.   
  
"I will destroy you."   
  
Leaning away from the protective embrace despite his swimming vision and pounding headache, Milton managed a wry smile lifting the screwdriver clutched within his fingers. Ignoring the pain, he clung to his bravado in face of the enraged bot. "You think you can? I can drop you before you even have the chance to draw a weapon. "   
  
Snorting derisively the huge alien leaned forward, reaching for the Electron pulse blaster at his side.   
  
"Wanna bet?"   
  
Meeting the gaze of the medic-in-training, Sunstreaker lifted the firearm, fingering the trigger in a deliberate threat. "You may just go down to friendly fire before you get the chance."   
  
It was in that instant that Sideswipe reacted. Slapping the blaster from his sibling's hand the irritated mech rose to his feet clutching Miles to his chest plate as he rebuked his twin. He'd been reserved before in dealing with the situation, but the fact his brother still couldn't play well with others had gotten to a point that even he couldn't ignore.   
  
"Stop this." He ordered softly standing nearly chest to chest with copy. If any could reign in Sunstreaker, it was he more than any other.   
  
Glancing at the fallen weapon the warrior moved closer nearly touching his brother. Grumbling unpleasantly at the pair before him he finally spoke accentuating each bitter word. "Why should I?"   
  
Miles squirmed in his captor's grip pushing against the large fingers as Sideswipe spoke.   
  
"You," he growled "are as much of a bleeding spark as I, and now I know why."   
  
Stunned briefly by the red Lambo's statement Sunstreaker gaped at him shaking his head as the realization sunk in.   
  
"No!"   
  
Ignoring the panic in Sunny's optics Sideswipe nodded in return. "Yes."   
  
Taken aback the usually fierce mech turned away. "I couldn't have."   
  
Putting a hand to his shoulder Sideswipe smiled brilliantly. "Yes, you have. We have."   
  
Clearing his throat noisily, Milton Lancaster demanded in no uncertain terms to know what the hell they were talking about. Glaring down at him nestled in Sideswipe's embrace Sunstreaker leaned down to face him.   
  
"You're the piece we've been missing."   
  
Blinking away his surprise Miles replayed the conversation over in his head and for once it all made sense.

 

"Oh"   
  
Well almost all of it.   
  
"I'm what?"

  
14141414141414   
  


Captain William Lennox turned away from his team and looked out over the desert. The soldiers were settled in the afternoon sun, waiting for the debriefing to begin. No matter what it seemed, no super-secret mission was complete without one. To anyone unaware of the fact, it was merely a cadre of men standing in the sunlight. Interspersed with the soldiers were various operatives of Sector Seven awaiting their own lieutenant, who was still under observation for the injuries to his ribs.   
  
Bubbly giggles echoed across the phone in the Captain's hand, underscored by a soothing voice telling him off sweetly. "You see?"   
  
Annabelle Lennox heedless of her mother's mirth gurgled and slapped her hand to the keypad, causing both of her parents to wince.   
  
On the end of the line, Lennox laughed. It was his ladies, his little lady in particular, but he was proud nonetheless. Holding that little bundle of pink topped with fair hair had been the best experience in his life and even if he was away from her he wasn't about to forget it.   
  
Not ten feet away, Mikaela Banes leaned against Long Arm and looked over the assembled team. Long Arm didn't mind, it was just one more thing he liked about human culture. That and sports. Not that she ever minded herself. She'd always said she had a thing for jocks and Long Arm was almost as much of a muscle head as any of her old boyfriends.   
  
To her left, Trent Demarco reflected on his place in the world. He'd enlisted the day after he'd gotten out of the hospital. To no surprise, his self-appointed guardian Chromia hadn't been pleased, but no one could have swayed him. After all what was more important than saving the planet?   
  
For being a dumb jock, he actually made sense once in awhile. His instructors at Basic had thought, so, too. Apparently his father's obsessive need to have a quarterback for a son and his mother's former military experience had shaped the teen into the perfect recruit. Trent, to his credit didn't care. He was doing something he wanted to do and that was all there was to it.   
  
Behind Trent stood his aforementioned guardian, the blue silver femme was close but watching the sky, her blue optics glowing softly in the shadow of her faceplates. It was a look that Mikaela recognized instantly, she'd had such a haunted expression on her own face when lost to her thoughts, especially thoughts relating to her latest ex. It was nothing bad of course, it was just she couldn't help worrying over Sam, and it wasn't just because she hadn't seen him or the fact he was still in the possession of the Decepticons. With a sigh, the agent could only guess what made the twenty foot Hummer look that way.   
  
In the shadow of the tower, Ironhide made small talk with the various soldiers and some of the newer recruits, well as small as he could, considering the size difference between himself and his audience. 

 

At the moment, she knew he was talking about his cannons. It was easy to see, since the assembled humans all took a step back at the telltale whine of charging weapons, even William turned briefly before going back to his conversation. Despite the fact he was well entrenched into his conversation, Mikaela knew he wasn't as focused on discussion as he usually was, and it was no secret why, at least not to her.   
  
"Stop psychoanalyzing with your eyes."   
  
Mikaela snapped from her thoughts, focusing briefly on the teen before her. Smiling softly she inclined her head, "What?"   
  
Crossing his arms, Trent shook his head, his bandages half hidden in his collar. "You know exactly what. They're adults, let them figure it out."   
  
Rolling her eyes the brunette stepped closer to her ex, boots echoing over the concrete as she moved.   
  
"That's just the problem."   
  
Arching an eyebrow, the former football star slung an arm about her shoulders as she continued. "They won't work it out."   
  
"Just what makes you think that?"   
  
Sighing dramatically as she habitually did, Mikaela Banes tapped her finger against DeMarco's nose. "Because they're stubborn, more thickheaded than even Miles and most of all because-"   
  
The words died on her lips, as the ground shook announcing the two figures slipping from the massive open doors. Simmons nodded as he passed, moving to speak to the Captain directly as the second stood in the doorway looking meaningfully at the other Autobots in the open air.   
  
"-of him" she finished lamely, indicating the ambulance looming over them.   
  
Trent glanced upward, but didn't laugh, rubbing her shoulder in an affectionate gesture as Mikaela looked away.   
  
A small chuckle caught them off guard and the humans turned to see Long Arm rolling forward as he accessed the situation smoothly. "How observant you are. You're really quite a pair."   
  
"A pair?" In that, instant Mikaela Banes was struck by the most obvious solution in the history of all rescue operations, on that could get the assembled teams exactly where they needed to be.   
  
"Sir!"   
  
At the call, everyone turned sharply, facing the woman in black as she moved forward adjusting her tie.   
  
"Why don't we track the last location of Sam's cell?"   
  
In the silence that followed, Trent finally started laughing.

  
14141414141414

  
Wobbling on his feet, Sam wiped blood from his lips. Laughing, Starscream moved closer, lifting a hand to the sickly human as he stared back. Stepping away the avatar of the All Spark moved to run, his heart pounding in his ears as adrenaline rushed through his system. He had to do something, anything. He had to-   
  
A sudden swing and the teen fell back, rolling underneath yet another aircraft. He winced and curled in on himself, trying not to touch anything in such a state. He wasn't going to raise an army, he just couldn't.   
  
A large hand closed about the uniform, dragging him to his feet and higher, slamming him against the jet. Pressing a thumb into his throat Starscream leaned close sharpened nails scraping over the port in his throat. 

 

"Don't even try fleshling. Resistance is futile"   
  
Struggling to breathe and fight Sam, was reminded briefly of the last time he was captured and sickeningly enough, of Star Trek as the red eyes smoldered in the dark. Shutting his eyes to the pain, the restrained figure twitched weakly against his captor as the spiraling symbols in his flesh flickered to life. The script blazed under his borrowed clothes, as his hands dropped to the smooth surface of the unknown jet; he writhed, pouring the alien essence into it. The illumination filled the room and Starscream laughed, tossing the choking fleshling aside as the dark plane came to life, transforming before their eyes.   
  
Jerking to its unsteady feet the mech slammed into the roof, punching a hole through the ceiling, raining debris down over everything as it examined its surroundings. The new seeker fell eerily silent as Starscream moved closer, crowing with pride and success. It seemed to accept his words as truth looking to the scrawny human moving beneath its feet.   
  
The humanoid form of Starscream seemed to flicker and fade as the real thing dropped into view hovering majestically above the hangar in question. Shaking away dust, the All Spark's latest creation leapt into the sky, taking wing with the Air Commander circling lazily, testing its new found abilities. The sounds of gunfire and screams reverberated across the tarmac as Starscream swooped lower reaching for the boy as he sat practically paralyzed in the wreckage.   
  
"Come here, small thing. There is no escape."   
  
Angry and hurt, Sam slipped against yet another jet, the power in his hands sparking silver as he struggled to stand. The intricate lines of his palm lay like a brand on the jet shuddering under his fingers. It was his worst nightmare; there was nothing to do.   
  
Nothing he could do. Screaming angrily, Sam scrambled as best he could with the Decepticon reaching for him.   
  
A sudden snarl silenced Starscream and caught the attention of the seeker circling overhead. Sam dropped again, staring as the silver craft above him rose knocking the Air Commander away. All at once, both jets launched into the air, shifting forms at they spiraled higher. From potshots and strafing attacks the fight evolved into the three-way dogfight.   
  
Sam was up at once, searching for an escape. The barricade of debris, made it rather difficult. As he crawled over a beam, he noticed, black painted words against shattered boxes against the wall. In bold letters glinting in the sun, it proclaimed the words Nellis Air Force. It was then Sam realized, just how far from home he was. Explosions rocked the building and he moved, terrified of becoming another casualty of the fighting seekers.   
  
Turning back towards the door, the staggering teen slipped forward on his knees and found himself face to face with yet another transforming jet. Onyx wings jutted from its sides as the broad curvature of its chest plate glinted in the afternoon sun. Long legs bent gracefully as the huge Cybertronian knelt to face the tiny human. In the shadow of the mech, Samuel Witwicky stared into the familiar azure optics of an Autobot.   
  
Bowing his head, the mech spoke, his voice shaking the teen on his feet. "I recognize you, I know what you are. I do not know not how you have become this way, but am a scientist; and I can help you understand what you're become." The odd faceplates stretched into a smile and the jet offered his hand.   
  
Surprised the teen reached for the fingers and laid his hand over the largest one. Energy flickered between them and Samuel felt himself smiling in return.   
  
"I am known as Skyfire, All Spark."   
  
Sheepishly rubbing a hand through his hair the teen corrected the mech simply. 

 

"I'm just Sam."   
  
In the seconds after their introduction, two of the three Decepticon planes arced across over the hangar firing at the pair. Expelling air from his vents, the Autobot leapt into the sky veering after their attackers with a quick order to the avatar. "Stay out of sight, I'll be back."   
  
Ducking under a fallen girder, Sam ignored the command as he bolted for the exit. He'd put up with more than his fair share of being a target for one day. As he slipped from the door, however, he was knocked to the ground by a not so gentle nudge from Soundwave. He'd forgotten about him. Staring at the mech pointing a gun at him Sam swore, Frenzy cackled and all was interrupted by the sudden blast of a well-known horn.   
  
The brilliant paint was scuffed and the lower half of the car was covered in a thick layer of dust. Staring at the car, he was sure a headlight was cracked and the antennae was missing, but the form of Sam's very own alien Camaro was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life.


End file.
